The Lines We Crossed
by goldnox
Summary: With Stefan gone, Damon is left to pick up the broken pieces of Elena's life. But with the sudden death of an Original, and a promise made to Katherine, will he be able to protect Elena from the things they don't understand and can't control? And what will happen when his biggest fears come true?Delena / Canon thru 2x22, As I Lay Dying.
1. The Visitor

"Damn it Stefan," Damon mumbled to himself, swirling his go-to Bourbon in a glass tumbler. He looked longingly at the flames licking up the inside of the parlor fireplace and wondered what it would feel like to jump in them. How long would it take for everything to end? Would he be writhing in pain for minutes, hours, days? Whatever it was, it had to be better than the helplessness of not knowing. Not knowing where Stefan was, if he was even alive. Not knowing how many people Stefan had ripped apart, and if he would ever find his way home again. Not knowing is _she_ would ever love him like she loved his brother.

And there it was, the only thing that kept him from crossing the miniscule distance over the hearth; Elena. As defeated as he was, he couldn't just leave her behind. Whether she liked it or not, he knew she needed him almost as much as he needed her.

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing back the amber liquid before slamming the glass into the flames he desperately wanted to unite with. The burning in his throat would have to suffice for now.

"Trouble in paradise already?" a voice asked. While the tone was full of empathy, its effect provided no comfort to Damon, causing his dead heart to want to jump to life in fear and rage.

"Klaus…"

* * *

"_He just sacrificed everything to save his brother, including you," her doppelganger had gloated. "It's a good thing you have Damon to keep you company. Good bye Elena," she had said with a twisted grin before stopping at the door. "Oh, it's okay to love them both. I did…"_

Katherine had sped away without another glance, leaving Elena rooted in terror and confusion. _Gave himself over to Klaus, what did that mean?_ She wondered.

Elena had wasted no time in sending an urgent text message to Stefan asking where he was, but she had never received a reply. In two months and numerous calls and texts, she had yet to receive a single response.

It had taken a week before she broke. Damon had been with her every day, watching her closely, waiting impatiently for the inevitable. She had outright refused to believe that this had become her reality.

Elena had desperately clung to the hope that any minute _he_ would walk through the door and the nightmare would be over. He would come back to her. But every minute that came and went felt like a year, and by the time she caved to despair she felt like she had suffered an eternity of misery.

Her parents were dead. Jenna was dead. Her uncle/father had sacrificed himself for her. Stefan had sacrificed himself for Damon, and in all likelihood he was probably dead now too.

Damon had found her crumpled to the floor of Stefan's room, clinging to his clothes in a desperate attempt to have his scent cloud her senses one more time. Her body was heaving with uncontrollable sobs, thrashing against the pain that was ripping her apart.

He was relieved when she didn't fight him as he gathered her in his arms, lightly extracting Stefan's shirt from her death grip. Gently, he had carried her from the room, shutting the door so softly that he could barely hear it close over her hysterical cries. Every tear she shed pulled a piece of his heart with it as it crashed to the floor, and he worried that if he didn't calm her soon there would be nothing left of himself.

She let him lay her on his bed, sinking into the plush mattress and comforter. He held her against him, letting her pour all her hurt on to his shoulder as he lovingly caressed her hair. It was crazy to him to think that in a week everything had turned upside down and he was now the one trying to comfort her.

"I'm so sorry Elena."

"I love you Elena."

"I'll find him Elena, I promise."

"I'll bring him back to you."

His words poured from him in an endless circle, changing in order but never in conviction.

She sobbed for hours, finally succumbing to sleep just before dawn; and with her peace came his. He felt her body wake a few hours later, but feigned sleep to allow her to slink from his bed and save her from the embarrassment that was radiating from her. He waited to move until he heard the front door open and close, quickly stripping his bed to wash the smell of her out of his sheets. It was all too much for him to handle.

He had told himself he would give her a week to avoid him, but couldn't help keeping an eye on her from afar. At night he would sit outside her window to check that she was sleeping soundly, leaving only once satisfied with the vision of her at a temporary peace.

Damon couldn't find the words to convey his relief and surprise at seeing her in his living room only a few days after her breakdown, curled up on the couch with an old copy of Wuthering Heights. He had thought she would sooner admit her buried love for him then to come back willingly to the boarding house with Stefan gone, but his heart warmed at the knowledge that she had made it back to him on her own.

Walking straight to the drink cart he poured himself a glass of Bourbon even though it was morning, and after quick contemplation, poured one for her too. He placed it on the table next to her with his signature smirk and fell into the leather wingback picking up his copy of Call of the Wild.

They sat in silence, finding comfort in just each other's presence. He barely heard her when she whispered a few hours later, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Of course," he said quietly, never looking up.

"Good night Damon," she told him that evening as she tiredly climbed the stairs to Stefan's bedroom; he faintly head the click of his brother's door as it latched shut moments later. He knew she must have been trying to hide her tears with her pillow from the muffled sounds drifting down to him; and only when he was sure she was finally asleep did he drag himself up to his own empty bed.

This simple routine became a dance they perfected over the next month and a half. They barely spoke, and never touched; he had even ceased his flirtatious glances that seemed to make her so uncomfortable.

He cooked all her meals, placing them before her without asking for, or receiving, acknowledgement. She would never look up as he took his place across from her at the table, content to only drink from his glass, be the contents Bourbon or blood.

And every night she would make her way up the long staircase to Stefan's room, Damon's favorite and most dreaded part of the day. He would wait hours to hear her voice bid him good night before she would cry herself to sleep.

They were living with, and for, a ghost they both were trying so hard to forget, but whose presence was as bright and inescapable as the daylight.

They were in hell.

* * *

"Klaus…"

"You know, I'm somewhat surprised to find you here what with Elena dead and your brother deserting you. I figured you would have left long ago," Klaus said, while pouring himself a drink.

Damon kept his face steady, desperate not to betray the fact that not only was Elena alive but that she was currently upstairs, asleep. He didn't know what Klaus was making of the heartbeat that for them seemed to echo through the house; he prayed that Klaus assumed it was just Damon's latest conquest/dinner.

"I was never one to be run out of town, Klaus. Help yourself by the way…"

Klaus smiled to himself. "Speaking of running, have you seen your brother?"

"Nope; what happened? You let him off his leash?" he sneered, turning back to face the fire.

"Now Damon, there's no need to be jealous," Klaus purred at him like he was a child. "Just tell me where Stefan is and I'll be on my way."

"Haven't seen him, sorry. Thanks for the visit though, it's been riveting."

"Damon?" He heard Elena call from the stairs, sleep still evident in her voice. Damon froze, absolutely horrified. He knew the presence of Elena was going to cause their shaky truce to implode in only moments, and he had no chance of killing Klaus on his own.

"Well, well; what do we have we here?" Klaus said, now standing in front of Elena, gingerly touching her face. "You're supposed to be dead," he growled, his façade beginning to slip.

"Leave her alone Klaus, you don't need her anymore. Just let her go," Damon said, calmly approaching the bottom of the stairs where Elena was visibly trembling.

"You know, you Salvatore's never cease to amaze me. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your love for this one girl. Which makes you," he said to Elena, gripping the top of her arms tightly, "the perfect bait."

Damon knew with absolute certainty he would die for his next actions, but at that moment he didn't care; the sight of Klaus touching his Elena caused his rage to overpower any rational thought. He threw himself with all his strength at his enemy, catching Klaus off guard just enough for him to release his hold on her.

"Elena, run!" Damon yelled, throwing Klaus into a nearby wall with a thunderous crash. To her credit, she didn't hesitate as she tripped her way up the stairs and barricaded herself in Damon's bedroom.

His relief at her escape was all the distraction needed for Klaus to now return the blow, sending Damon flying into the mantle above his beloved fireplace. They both heard the sickening crunch as Damon's spine broke, a demented smile spreading across Klaus' face.

Flashing over to his prey, he did not hesitate to hoist Damon into the air by his throat, his legs dangling lifelessly beneath him. After a simple and slight shift of his hand, Klaus squeezed his fingers, shattering Damon's jaw.

His screams shook the house.

_How had it come to this? _He wondered. Not ten minutes prior he had been all but ready to commit suicide. _I was ready to die, I deserve to die; I've been saved too many times already_…he told himself.

But Elena…he had to protect Elena; he had promised her he would. And what lengths would Klaus go to, what level of hell would he drag her through, if Damon wasn't there to protect her? The thought made Damon want to vomit.

"Good bye Damon," Klaus grinned at him with his hand poised over Damon's chest. "It's been fun…"

Closing his eyes, Damon let Elena's face swim before him, choosing to spend his last seconds with her, always her. He relished the sound of her laughter ringing in his ears, and the softness of her lips as he replayed his death bed kiss in his mind.

He heard over his memories the sickening sound of a heart being torn from a chest. He could smell the blood now gushing freely from the open cavity, yet he felt no pain… _Was this what it is like to die?_ The thought made him viciously angry; of all the hearts he had ripped out over the years he had counted on the pain of his victims. The idea that organ extraction was painless was so disappointing…

Finally opening his eyes to witness for himself his own death, he was having trouble comprehending the scene before him.

Chocolate brown eyes were boring into his own over Klaus' shoulder. As he watched, the veins driven by bloodlust and fury made their unabashed appearance on the face of the woman he had once loved so dearly.

Klaus' face held nothing but shock, and in looking down, Damon quickly discovered why. It was not Damon's heart that had been ripped from his chest, it had been Klaus'.

They hybrid's body collapsed in a heap, taking Damon with him as his back had not yet healed. The sight of Katherine standing over him, bloody heart in hand, was both beautiful and terrifying.

"Well, that was disgusting," she said far too casually, tossing the heart aside. "You need blood," she declared and sped from the room, returning a heartbeat later.

"You're welcome," she said full of sarcasm as she tossed him two blood bags which he quickly drained.

"What are you doing here Katherine?" Damon groaned as his body began to heal, painfully.

"Looking for Stefan."

"He's not here."

"I know, I heard," she said with avid disappointment. "At least now that Klaus is dead his compulsion will break and I'm sure he'll come home in no time…"

"Katherine?"

"What?"

"Thank you…"

"Whatever, you owe me," she said sauntering into the kitchen, presumably to wash the blood off her hands.

Feeling his spine reconnect with a jolt, he picked himself up from the floor as he heard the faucet begin to run. _Another rug ruined_, he thought as he surveyed the parlor.

"Damon?" he heard her whisper, overcome with alarm. The simple fact that she was afraid made his blood run cold. How much more could he take today?

Running to the kitchen he found her at the sink staring with a panicked expression at her wet hands. With horror he watched as the tips of her fingers faded from olive to ash, the change creeping quickly over her hands.

"Katherine, what's happening?"

"I don't know," she whimpered, obviously terrified that the death she had so many times escaped had finally now come to claim her.

Damon stared as the desiccation was now making its way up into her arms. He caught her just as she collapsed, settling them awkwardly on the floor.

"Promise me," she pleaded as death crept into her face, "promise me you will protect our family. Promise me!"

"I promise," he gasped, hoping that he wasn't too late for her to hear him.

"Katherine? Katherine?!" he yelled, shock and sudden grief choking his words.

"You are not dead, you are not dead," he repeated, rocking the corpse back and forth.

The woman whom he had loved and hated with equal measure, the woman who was responsible for not only his vampire life, but for the death of his human one, was gone.

Katherine Pierce was dead.

* * *

**A/N Hey guys, first TVD Delena fanfic, hope you enjoy! Will try to update asap, long way to go yet to completion! Please r/r, love to hear your thoughts and many thanks for reading.**

**-Goldnox**


	2. Keep On Moving

**A/N: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the amazing response to the first chapter, you guys blow me away! Here is the second, I hope to have the third up tonight as well depending on how fast I can type it up. I really want to try to keep updating as fast as possible, but a girl's gotta sleep sometime lol. And without further ado...**

* * *

"You are not dead, you are not dead…"

Damon's voice had carried up to Elena, releasing her from where she had been rooted in place by his door, stake in hand, poised to face any attacker. Hearing his voice and knowing he was alive, she flew down the stairs to check that he was unhurt. Nothing could have prepared her for what she found.

The sight of him hunched over a body, rocking back and forth, terrified her. The strongest man, the fiercest vampire she had ever known, was broken; crumbling right before her eyes. He was repeatedly making a sound halfway between a growl and a grunt, desperately trying to retain control on his overpowering grief.

The smell of blood washed over her, and turning to look in the parlor she saw the body of Klaus splayed on the floor, a large red stain and hole in the center of his back. He was dead, it was over. She was safe.

"Damon?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to startle the predator before her that was undoubtedly out of control.

He paused in his actions and slowly turned to look at Elena. The last pieces of her heart shattered at seeing his face. His eyes were wild and filled with rage, black veins dripped down on to his cheeks mixing with the few tears he had allowed to fall. He looked like a striking mixture of danger and pain.

She raised her hand in a sign of peace as she took a step towards him, hoping that he would leave his beloved corpse and come to her, to let her touch him and confirm that he was unharmed. Instead, he only growled at her, causing her to leap back in fear and stumble to the floor in shock.

Slowly, he turned away from her and rose to his feet, cradling Katherine against him as he walked from the house.

Her body had screamed at her to run for safety when he had growled at her, but she forced herself to stay; she could not abandon him now, not when he needed her most.

Elena felt more lost than ever watching him walk away from her; she didn't know what to do. He had cared for her while she fell apart, never asking for anything in return. He should have; after all, he had lost his brother too and now Katherine...

Pulling herself to her feet she went to the parlor. The mantle was broken, debris scattered across the floor and coating everything with a thin layer of dust that was still settling. Klaus' body was leaking blood on the rug; it was the first thing that needed to be dealt with.

Wrapping the blood stained rug around him, she had tried to drag the hybrid's body from the room but hadn't been able to manage even a few feet. Knowing she could never do this alone, she quickly grabbed her phone and called Caroline.

The two girls had made quick work of the mess in the house, trying to erase all evidence of the fight. Caroline had taken care of the body that needed to be buried; Elena didn't bother or care to ask what her friend planned to do with it, she just trusted her to get it done.

When Caroline returned, Elena told her as best she could what she thought had happened, though she didn't know exactly how Katherine had died or how Damon had lived, only that they had. Elena explained that Damon had been visibly upset by Katherine's death and that he had gone to bury her, that being the reason for his absence. But she didn't dare relate the exact details of what she had found when she had discovered Damon holding Katherine's lifeless body. She knew Caroline would be afraid to leave Elena with a vampire who was out of control, but Elena wasn't scared. She knew that he would never hurt her.

Caroline offered sweetly to take her home, but she immediately declined.

"I am home," had been her automatic reply.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No; thank you Caroline. We'll be okay; I'll call you tomorrow," she promised, and with a grateful hug sent her friend home.

An hour later, Damon had still not returned, and she didn't know how long he would be gone. For a fleeting moment she found herself unable to breathe at the thought that that he might not come back for her. She pushed the thought from her mind as soon as she had grasped it; he would come home to her. He_ had_ to. Her mind and body couldn't accept anything else at this point.

Finding the house clean and in order apart from the broken mantle that would have to be rebuilt by masons, she decided her next move. She had to keep moving, that was the only way she would survive the unknown length of time before he returned. _If_ he returned. _When_ he returned.

She made her way to the basement and pulled two blood bags from the freezer. Going into the kitchen she found his found his favorite mug, black of course, and emptied the blood bags into it before warming it up. After that was done she went to the drink cart, pouring herself a glass of Damon's favorite Bourbon and drinking it as quickly as she could stand. Its calming effect was immediate and the burn in her throat was a welcome distraction from the ache in her chest. She drank another before pouring a large glass for Damon upon his return.

Both glasses in hand she made her way up the stairs, bypassing Stefan's room without a glance in its direction. She set both glasses down on Damon's bedside table next to his stack of favored books before continuing on her with her list.

She stripped the sheets off his bed, replacing them with fresh linens. Damon was obsessively tidy and clean and she didn't want him to come home to an unclean bed, not knowing when he had last done the change. It may have been the day before for all she knew but she didn't care. All she could focus on were the little things she could do to try to give him some semblance of peace when he returned.

Done with the bed she went into his bathroom, drawing a large bubble bath for him. It had been something that had surprised her when she first moved in, to discover that this ruthless vampire liked nothing better than to soak in his glorious tub, filled to the brim with lavender bubbles and strawberry bath salts.

She could still remember the look of utter serenity on his face when she had found him like that while gathering laundry one afternoon. She had assumed he must have been reading in bed when he told her she could enter after knocking on his door, and she had blushed deeply at finding him in such a state. But Damon being the ever collected person he was, just pointed to the hamper and thanked her like it was no big deal that the only thing shielding her eyes from his exposed body was a thin layer of delicious smelling bubbles.

She wondered if anyone else knew this about him. He was always so guarded around everyone else, except for maybe Ric, but still; she doubted if anyone ever knew or cared to notice the things that made Damon, Damon. She felt a joyful smugness that he was always most open with _only_ her, letting his guard down in ways that she thought he didn't even realize.

His unabashed love for her had unknowingly revealed more things about himself and who he really was beneath the façade he displayed to the world, and she felt blessed that she was the one who this knowledge was bestowed upon. Anyone would be lucky to be the object of such affection.

He had cooked for her every day, focusing on all her needs that complexly contradicted with his own; and it was all about the little things. He knew, for instance, and without asking, how she took her coffee in the morning. He had never put pepper in her eggs, only a miniscule amount of salt, and she had no idea how on earth he had known to do this. Just as he already knew her preference for mustard over mayonnaise, he would make her homemade pasta on the days when she just needed the extra bit of comfort.

He had shopped for her. She had never thought about it, but it should have been obvious. The idea of Damon walking through a supermarket, buying things to make for her brought an un-intentional smile to her face. She couldn't seem to rectify the contradictory image in her mind, and she made a silent vow that she would have to try to witness this in action one day soon.

In the months that she had been living there, he had made sure she had never wanted for anything; a new bottle of her shampoo and conditioner would always replace the prior before she could realize she needed more. Fresh razors and toothpaste had magically appeared in her designated drawer in Stefan's bathroom. And on the occasions that she left to visit with Bonnie and Caroline or to check up on Jeremy, she would always find a freshly made bed and all her clothes washed and put away upon her return. He would even leave her a new book on her bedside table just as soon as she had finished her current one.

No one had ever taken care of her like he had.

The fact that he loved her constantly radiated from him; but what had she ever done in return to deserve such devotion? She had openly grieved over her lost love, his brother, right in his face while he comforted her. She had never even acknowledged or thanked him, but how do you thank someone for loving you? _You love them back_, a voice whispered in her mind.

This voice had been growing stronger since even before Stefan had left, but she had always shut it out forcefully. She hadn't, couldn't, do that to Stefan. She loved _Stefan_. But more than her love for Stefan was her fear of becoming Katherine.

Katherine, who was now dead. Katherine, whose love for both brothers had been a terrifying reality she vowed not to repeat. As much as she had been afraid of her, afraid of becoming her, and mostly hated her for what she had done to the Salvatore brothers, she couldn't help but feel a sudden rush of overwhelming gratitude towards her. Katherine's love had saved Damon's life.

Pulling herself from her thoughts she turned the water off in the now full tub, and climbed into his shower. She let the hot water massage her tired muscles for longer than she normally would, relishing in the temporary comfort and distraction.

Coming out of her oasis, she looked at her face in the mirror. What would he see when he looked at her now? She knew he had loved Katherine more deeply and longer than was good for him, and it had caused him immeasurable pain time and time again. Would he push her away now, sending her back to the Gilbert house so he wouldn't be constantly reminded of his first love, which he was now burying? The idea made it difficult to breathe again, quickly undoing all the work done by the Bourbon and the shower.

She wouldn't let him push her away, she decided. Now, more than ever, he would need her. She couldn't begin to comprehend the loneliness that was surging through him.

But would she knowingly inflict more pain on him just because of_ her_ need for him? She couldn't deny it anymore; she needed Damon in her life. He gave her peace in a way that no one ever had, not even Stefan. He pushed her to fight for herself, her life, her wants and her needs. She could dump all the broken pieces of her life at him when she couldn't carry it anymore because she knew he would always put her back together.

But could she let him go it that's what _he_ needed? It was a question she couldn't answer, and hoped she would never have to.

She found herself dressing in one of his plain black t-shirts before she recognized that she had her own clean, perfectly wearable clothes in a drawer down the hall. Whatever, she didn't care. On this night it felt right to wear his clothes; to show him in any way she could that she was his in a way, and that she would never leave him.

She left a similar shirt, boxers, and the softest pair of pajama pants her fingers had ever touched on the counter in his bathroom for him. She had to believe that he would come home to her. He had always promised he would.

She had done all she could think to do, exhausted beyond words. She climbed into his bed, slipping between the sheets and extinguishing the last light in the room. Clinging to his pillow, a heavy sigh escaped her as the smell of his cologne filled her up, always present even though she had just changed the sheets. It brought her more comfort than the alcohol and shower combined, and as she drifted off to sleep she found herself saying to the empty room, "Come home Damon."

* * *

This was maybe the longest walk of his unnaturally long life. He had buried Katherine in the woods by the falls, the first place he had ever made love to her. He had contemplated flipping the switch on his emotions as he dug the hole for her, but decided against it. She was one of the few he would ever bring himself to cry for, and he would not deny her now. He had never been able to deny her anything.

He had laid her body gently into the grave, arranging her limbs so she appeared to be sleeping. He had let his eyes take in one long, final look before he gently unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and slipped it into his pocket.

It had taken ten minutes before he could turn over the shovel he was holding above her, letting the first scoop of dirt fall and seal her away forever. Every shovel was torture, his body screaming at him that this was wrong, monstrous, disgusting, to cover her in dirt. He knew the thudding sound it made hitting her lifeless body would haunt him forever.

Once she was buried, he left to gather the flowers for her. Katherine had loved all things pretty, but she had always fawned over the bouquet of wild flowers he had brought her as a human. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense to him. They may not have been the most coveted or rare flowers in the world, but they were still beautiful. Most importantly, they were free. No rules…

He had laid the flowers on her grave at the place where her head would be. He hoped that somehow they would take root, marking the spot forever for the impulsive woman he had loved with reckless abandon.

"Good bye Katherine," was all he could bring himself to say as he left her behind.

He didn't want to deal with the mess at the house, but he knew he would have to. He wanted nothing more at that moment to drown himself in blood and Bourbon while soaking in his tub, but that would have to wait.

He didn't know if he had it in him to bury another body tonight; he would just dump Klaus' body in the quarry and be done with it. He didn't care.

The rest of the house could be cleaned tomorrow, or next week, or never. He would have to hire someone to rebuild the mantle, or maybe he would just leave it broken. In the end, it didn't matter; there would be no one to keep the house clean for, no one waiting for him, and he wouldn't be staying there much longer either.

He knew that Elena must have run screaming from the house as soon as he had left. As terrified as she was of Klaus, he had never seen her more afraid than when he had growled at her. He hadn't meant to scare her, and he would never have hurt her, it was just a natural reaction at the time from the predator inside of him. He had known in the moment from the look in her eyes that he had lost her forever; she had finally seen him for the monster that he was.

The guilt crashed down on him with a weight that took him to his knees. He had lost them both. Katherine had died to save him, and Elena had run_ from_ him. It was all his fault…

He flipped his switch to allow himself to carry on. It was the only way he would make it back to the house instead of doing what he really wanted; throwing away his ring and waiting for the sun to rise. But he couldn't, not yet… He had made a promise to Katherine and he would fulfill it or die trying. Once his task was finished, then he could find his peace. He only hoped it wouldn't take too long…

The house was dark as he approached it, he had been right. She was gone… He fought desperately for the control on his humanity, the only thing keeping him going; the switch that now seemed to be broken.

He walked straight into the parlor to fix himself a drink, stopping in shock when he finally_ looked_ at the room. Klaus' body was gone, the large rug he had died on replaced by another from the basement. The mantle was broken but the debris had been cleared away, and all the tables dusted. Had he simply imagined everything? No…Katherine was dead, he had buried her. And the fireplace was proof enough of the encounter. But he couldn't make sense of the room.

"Stefan?" he said quietly, knowing that if his brother was anywhere in the house he would hear him and respond. He waited for an answer, but none came; at least, not the one that he had expected.

She was upstairs, asleep. He didn't know how he didn't hear it before; he could recognize the cadence of her heartbeat in a crowded room. He could read her every emotion by her heart alone, and he knew that without question that it was her who was upstairs. Only, she was in the wrong place…

He could always find her in the house based on the way her breath lapped against the walls, giving off her location like her own personal sonar. But she wasn't in Stefan's room; the amount of clutter in there usually absorbed her presence more than he had ever cared for. Now it was coming to him clearly, as though the room she was in was almost empty…

He was at his door in a flash and inside laid his answer. She was in his room. He opened the door with a quietness only a vampire could pull off, and he had to control his gasp at the sight of her in his bed. She was dressed in what he knew was one of his shirts and clinging to his pillow for dear life. He stared at the image he had dreamed of for so long, his switch completely shattering under the weight of his love for this girl.

He let his other senses come back to him, bringing his attention to the two glasses on his bedside table; his favorite Bourbon in a glass filled more than he ever bothered to fill it, and blood. _Wait; blood?_

He walked over to take the cup in his hands; it wasn't hot but it was far from cold. Why had she done this? This angel of a girl, whose life had been destroyed by vampires, had taken it upon herself to warm two (not _one_, but _two_) bags worth of blood in his favorite black mug and leave it for him for when he came home. He didn't fucking deserve this girl…

He drank the blood greedily, allowing himself to be swallowed up in the rush of comfort and power it provided. Once it started to fade, he switched to the Bourbon and was ever so grateful for the ridiculous amount she had measured into his glass. He would need every drop, and maybe more.

Setting the glass delicately back on the table, he ached for a bath. He was dirty from head to toe and the thought of soiling his bed with her in it was something he couldn't stand. It literally made him sick to his stomach, even though every one of his muscles was screaming for her closeness, for her touch.

He didn't want to take the risk of waking her by running the water, but at the very least he could gather his $500 worth of favorite bath products and use one of the other tubs in the house. It would have to suffice for the night.

Walking the short distance to his bathroom, he managed to trip over a pile of clothes that had been discarded on the floor.

"Shit," he gasped before he could stop himself, and with a loud thud and subsequent groan his hip made hard contact with the sharp corner of his marble sink. He would have to talk to her about leaving crap all over the floor…who was he kidding? He didn't give a fuck if she left crap on the floor and destroyed his every possession as long as she was there.

Mindlessly reaching for his bath salts while rubbing his sore hip, he had to blink twice to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. _She had drawn him a bath? _He dipped his fingers in the water; like the blood it was warm, but barely. She must have done all this hours ago…

Distracted by all the things she had done for him, he hadn't heard her move from the bed or come up behind him. What he did hear was his favorite voice say with more relief than he had ever heard, "You're home…"

* * *

**A/N: So, what do you guys think so far? Please r/r, love to hear your thoughts...as always, thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	3. Wash It Away

**A/N: Hey guys, have I told you all how awesome you are? Here's chapter three as promised, Enjoy! **

* * *

"You're home…"

He didn't know what she found in looking at his face, but whatever it was caused her to waste no time in throwing herself at him, securing her arms around his neck with more strength than he knew she had.

"I was so worried about you," she confessed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you…" he said, letting himself hug her back.

"I'm just glad you're home," she said, pulling back to look into his eyes.

"Elena, I'm so…"

"It's okay," she said, hugging him again.

"No Elena, it's not okay."

"I know," she whispered, pulling back again and cupping his face in her soft hands.

He didn't know how long they stared at each other, but whatever it was, it wasn't long enough.

"Come on, let's get you in the bath," she said, trying to encourage him to hold it together; wordlessly telling him that she would be his strength right now when they both knew he had none left.

He let her fingers move down the front of his shirt, releasing each button with confidence. She undressed him with a touch so light it was if she was afraid she would hurt him, and he was mesmerized by the love that was all over her face as she took complete care of him.

His shirt now solely in her hands, she walked it to the hamper and pretended to busy herself with getting a towel for him so he could remove his boots and jeans, slipping into the tub. Once he was submerged, she came right back to him and perched herself on the edge to face him. He tried not to notice how the shirt she was wearing had pulled up on her thigh as she sat down, but it was impossible not to do so.

He watched her eyes roaming over his face and the parts of his body she could see, seeming to find relief at whatever it was she found.

"He didn't hurt you?" she asked softly; he'd be surprised if either of them would be able to manage anything more than a whisper for the rest of the night.

"No."

She smiled the sweetest of smiles at him as she reached for his favorite loofa; it was a smile he knew he would do anything to receive again.

"Elena…"

"Just let me take care of you," she said with enough authority that he wouldn't dare to argue with her, not now.

She took her time as she caressed his skin with the soft sponge and bubbles, inspecting and restoring every inch of his long arms and chest with the brush of her fingertips. He moved at her every request, giving himself over to her in a way he had never done with anyone else before. He had almost fallen asleep as she had slowly worked over his back, massaging his tired muscles deeply but with the utmost tenderness.

"Lean back," she told him, and he gave in to her wish. She kept her hand on the back of his neck for support as he stretched out, coming to rest against the far edge of the tub with his head now looking up toward the ceiling.

Taking his hand that was closest to her, she wrapped it in both of hers and breathed a soft kiss on the back of his hand.

"I'll be right back," she whispered, leaving the room.

She returned a minute later with a plastic cup she had scrounged up from God-knows-where, and when he looked at her with a curious grin she simply said, "Hair," and he understood.

Collecting his shampoo and conditioner from the shower stall, he realized how natural this all felt to him. Elena was bathing him while wearing only one of _his_ shirts and her black boy-short underwear, moving around him and touching him with a grace that made him feel like they had done this hundreds of times before. The reality couldn't have been more different.

He had not physically felt her since the night she had slept in his bed. He knew this for a fact because he had concentrated every effort on making it so. He knew that their fingers had never brushed as he handed her something, they stayed on opposite ends of the couch while watching movies together, and even when she would stretch out to put her feet in his lap, he would carefully wrap them snugly in the blanket she was always covered with. Their skin had not connected in almost two months, and now he was on sensory overload.

"Lean forward," she said and again he did as she asked. He was not prepared for the feeling of her leg slipping in the water to better position herself behind him while still staying on the edge of the tub. The softness of her skin resting against his side made him incredibly thankful for the bubbles that were somehow still floating in the water.

She leaned forward to run some clean water to wash his hair, her hand waiting to feel the temperature she wanted, and he wondered if she recognized how physically close they were. Her leg was wrapped around him, and her chest was pressed flush against his shoulder as she reached for the faucet.

Christ, he hadn't _been_ with a woman in over two months; he hadn't been able to muster the desire for anyone else, not that he hadn't tried. And as sensual as all this was, he was vehemently surprised that he didn't really want to sleep with Elena. Well, he always wanted to sleep with Elena, but just not _tonight_. Tonight he only wanted to continue having her close and touch him in ways that had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with love and unspoken promises of eternal commitment.

"Tilt your head back."

She was incredibly careful as she poured the water over his hair, making sure to wet every strand but to keep the water off his face. She lathered the shampoo and worked it deep into his scalp in a massage that almost put him to sleep again. Rinsing the soap from his hair, she repeated the process with his conditioner, running it through his black locks with a slow and deliberate confidence.

Somewhere in the middle of it all he realized he was absent-mindedly running his fingertips up and down her submerged limb. She either didn't notice or didn't care that he was touching her so affectionately, and he took the opportunity to revel in the feeling of her skin against his. All their barriers had come down, and it was glorious.

"I feel like John Travolta in _Phenomenon_," he said with smile.

"Well, we're just washing tonight, no cutting…"

"Good, 'cause if you think I'm letting you cut my hair you're sorely mistaken…"

"Why don't you trust me?" she feigned innocence.

"You know I do, just not with scissors," he teased, getting the exact smile from her he had wanted.

"Quiet, lean your head back," she said, rinsing the conditioner and surveying him. "Better?"

"Yes…"

"Do you want to get out?"

"Can we just stay for a minute, this feels nice," he asked, not wanting to lose the openness currently between them by making the mistake of ending it too soon.

"Of course, whatever you want," she agreed with complete sincerity, resuming her massage of his scalp.

He allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of her fingers in his hair, combing through it as if she wanted to memorize every strand. He had never stopped caressing her leg and wished he would never have to stop, but he knew he would have to relinquish her all too soon.

It was if she was reading his mind, or perhaps they were just that in tune with one another, because she suddenly released him and leaned forward to wrap her arms around his chest, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, it's okay; we're okay," he tried to comfort her, rubbing her arms that were locked around him. She nodded her understanding and he could have sworn he felt a tear land on his chest.

"I'm just glad you're home."

"I will _always_ come home."

She buried her face in his neck and nodded once again.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Exhausted; you?"

"Yeah; I think I'm ready to get out, go lay down."

"Okay," she whispered and let go of him. Their loss of contact sent his body into shock and he craved to feel her against him again.

"Here," she said, holding open a towel for him to step into. He stared at her, impressed by how brazen she was being and almost daring her _not_ to take back her request.

"Just get out of the tub," she laughed. Cocking an eyebrow at him she added, "If I see something I haven't seen before, I'll throw a dollar at it…" causing him to let a giggle escape before he could stop himself.

The levity of the moment quickly passed as he began to raise himself from the bath. To say he was exposed would be a monumental understatement. His whole body and soul were open for her to read, he just didn't know what she would do with what she found.

She had locked her eyes on his the moment he began to rise from the tub and never broke eye contact as he stood before her. She had held the towel open and waiting for him, but in a way that allowed him some privacy by blocking his lower half from her view.

When he found his footing on the bathroom floor he let her wrap her arms around his waist, securing the towel low on his hips. It had tickled terribly when she had tucked the corner in to fasten it, causing his stomach muscles to tense and flex and a reflex grin to spread across his face.

"Sorry," she said shyly.

"It's okay," he assured her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

He watched her as she grabbed another towel that she had ready and started to pat his chest dry. He still couldn't believe how gentle she was being with him, how much love she was allowing to show.

He studied her face intently as she dried whatever water she found, realizing then just how worried she had been. She had really thought he wasn't coming home; it was obvious from her repeated expression of relief that he was. He silently cursed himself for everything he had put her through to drive her to this show of affection.

"Elena?"

"Hmm?" she said, distracted by her mission.

"Look at me," he told her, tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes. "I love you, and I will _always_ come home, okay? _No matter what_…"

She nodded fast, too fast, and a tear escaped before she could stop it. Throwing her arms around his neck she clung to him like she was drowning and he was her only salvation. With a shudder, he realized it probably wasn't that far from the truth, except that she was his savior too.

"Hey, it's okay; we're okay," he soothed her again, holding her tightly to him.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," she breathed. Her chest was heaving; she was too overwhelmed with emotion, the length of the day, and all its events. He knew he would have to be careful with her, there was only so much more she could take.

She pulled back to release him and he took her face in his hands, placing the gentlest of kisses on her forehead.

"Why don't you put this on," he said, handing her the shirt she had brought in for him, "yours is all wet and I don't sleep in one anyways."

"Okay…"

"I'll be right behind you," he promised.

Trying to be a gentleman, he gave her a moment to change and impatiently waited until he heard her get into his bed before walking out of the bathroom, happily dressed in his favorite black pajama pants that she had laid out for him.

He was admittedly a little nervous at the prospect of her sleeping in his bed after what had happened last time, but he knew tonight would be different; she wouldn't run from him in the morning. He found her sitting up and waiting for him, and as soon as he lay down she came right to him, folding herself into him like they were two pieces of a puzzle, reconnected at last.

"Thank you Elena, no one has ever done for me what you've done tonight," he said.

"Hmm?" she breathed, already half asleep.

"Never mind sweetheart; just sleep."

"Good night Damon."

* * *

Damon slept more soundly than he had in years. The gentle rhythm of her heart against him had calmed his mind and body in a way that was almost hypnotizing. Listening to it as he drifted off reminded him so much of how his mother's voice used to lull him asleep as a boy. Having Elena next to him made him feel so _human_…

She had fallen asleep almost as soon as they were in bed; her head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder where she fit just right, her leg snaking its way over his own as she entangled herself in him.

He didn't remember when, but discovered they had moved sometime during the night. As he woke he found himself curled up behind her, both of his arms locking her against his chest. Their legs were still entwined, only now it was his leg lying on top of both of hers. He had hung on to her desperately throughout the night and she had let him; he was in heaven.

He allowed himself to place the lightest of kisses on the top of her head which was securely under his chin. He hadn't wanted to wake her, but she stirred anyway, snuggling backwards into him.

"Hmm, good morning," she breathed.

"Good morning," he whispered back, placing another kiss on her. "You hungry?"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded sleepily, rolling over to face him and bury herself even deeper in his arms. She had pulled her arms up to let them rest on his chest as her face snuggled into his neck.

He combed his fingers through her hair as he let his lips continue to plant little kisses on her; she didn't seem to mind and he was ecstatic to know that the walls that had come crumbling down the night before hadn't begun to erect themselves yet.

"What do you want for breakfast?"

"Hmm…pancakes," she said still half asleep with an adorable pout that he could only feel against his skin; he couldn't see her face.

"Blueberry pancakes?"

"Mm-hmm…"

"Want some bacon with that?"

She shook her head. "Fruit…"

"Okay, how about some cantaloupe?"

"And honeydew…"

"Okay sweetheart, I'll go start the coffee," he said starting to move away from her.

"No," she said forcefully, pushing closer to him; clearly not ready to move yet.

"You know, I may be talented but I can't cook you breakfast _from_ the bed," he laughed.

"Don't care," she sighed, refusing to let him leave.

He couldn't help the grin on his face. He had gotten everything he had wanted; well, almost everything. Maybe if he continued to be the luckiest vampire on earth he could rectify that later…

He tried not to let himself think of the reason they had come to this beautiful place. He had said his good byes to Katherine, and he vowed he would not sabotage his relationship with Elena for her memory. The overwhelming grief he had felt for her was still incredibly raw, but the only thing stronger than that was his love for the girl in his arms. He would let that heal him, he knew that it would.

He thought she had fallen back asleep as he continued to run his fingers through her long brown locks, still kissing her whenever he felt like it to his heart's content. He decided he would let himself go back to sleep too; there was nothing they had to do that day and they could take all the time they wanted, to do whatever they wanted.

He had just closed his eyes again when he felt it.

As a vampire his senses were always too keen on detecting a foreign presence watching him, and he instantly knew that he was being watched now. Opening his eyes to assess the room, his eyes immediately met that of their audience.

"Well, isn't this cozy," the man said that was leaning casually against his door frame, the picture of ease and a satisfied grin on his face.

"Hello, brother…"

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**A/N: Oh snap! Thanks all for reading, please r/r, love to hear what you thought about this chapter and guessed for the ones ahead. We're just in the opening stages and have a long road ahead; plot going to thicken SOON. **

**Can't thank you guys enough for the follows, it really means a lot. I will try to get chapter four up in the next couple days. Stupid work interfering with my fan fic writing time. Boo..**

**Many thanks,**

**-Goldnox**


	4. The One to Blame

**A/N: Wow. Just, wow. You guys are incredible. So sorry had to leave you hanging in the last chapter, things are about to get...heated. Thanks for hanging with me!**

**Ready, set, go!**

* * *

"Hello Brother…"

"You know, I have to say I'm surprised you even remember my name at this point. Seems you didn't even hesitate to move in on _my_ girlfriend while I was out saving _your_ life…" Stefan said calmly.

Damon wasn't fooled for a second by the collected demeanor his brother was projecting; he'd seen it happen too many times before. Klaus' compulsion may have broken with his death, but it didn't release Stefan from being the Ripper he had turned in to while out feasting on any human he had cared to. He was high on blood, and there was nothing more dangerous than him at that moment.

"Stefan?" Elena confirmed, sitting up and looking at him like he was a figment of her imagination. When he smiled at her she seemed to realize the position he had found her in, wrapped in his brother's arms and scantily dressed. Her face blushed deeply with embarrassment.

"Hello Elena, I've missed you," he purred at her innocently.

She let out a heavy sigh like she had been holding her breath for months; pulling away from Damon, she immediately moved to run to Stefan.

"No Elena," Damon told her, gripping her arm to hold her back before her feet could even reach the floor.

"Let me go Damon," she said confused, "it's _Stefan_."

"Yeah; let her go Damon," Stefan smiled at him in a challenge, daring him to even _try_ to hold on that which technically wasn't his.

Elena yanked her arm from Damon's grasp before he could argue another word and she joyously threw herself into Stefan's waiting arms.

His stomach rolled at the way her body stretched up to mold itself around his brother; the shirt she was wearing, _his_ shirt, pulling up to reveal even more of her olive skin. She was clinging to Stefan like she had held Damon only hours before, and it made him want to kill something. Soon.

"I'm so glad you're home Stefan," she said with utter devotion.

Damon wanted to throw up with the repetition of it all. _How could she recycle the same shit right in front of me?_

"Me too; I'll always come back to you…"

_Stake me. Right. Fucking. Now._

"I promise this isn't what it looks like," she said, obviously referring to her half-dressed state.

_What the fuck?_

"It's okay, I trust you," he told her, still holding her tightly against him.

They stood like that for a while, like they were the only two people in the world; both apparently oblivious to that fact that Damon was a mere five feet away and being forced to witness the intimate reunion between them.

Furious with jealousy and deeply hurt by her dismissal of him, along with the best night of his life, he knew he couldn't afford to be distracted by his complicated love for her. Not with the predator that was holding her so tight.

Stefan was staring at Damon over Elena's shoulder as he ran his hands all over her body; a smug and twisted grin on his face that she couldn't see. As if on cue, Damon saw his brother's eyes turn black with hunger and before he could shout her name, Stefan sank his teeth into her skin.

Time stopped for Damon. Elena's banshee scream had hit him hard, and the insurmountable fear for her life as his brother ripped into her skin had frozen him in place.

He hadn't realized he was finally moving until it was over.

Elena collapsed on the floor, tears steadily streaming down her face. Damon stood over the temporarily-dead body of his brother, having snapped his neck before Stefan could register what had happened. He had been too caught up in the attempted slaughter of his own girlfriend.

Both were still, rooted in shock at what had transpired. Glancing at Elena, Damon saw with relief that she was all right. She was covered in blood and absolutely terrified, but her wounds were not so bad that he would have to worry about her dying in the time it would take to carry Stefan's body to the basement and return for her.

"Elena, stay here; I'll be right back," he told her, but she did not acknowledge him.

He heaved his brother over his shoulder and took him to the cellar, removing Stefan's daylight ring for good measure before locking him in.

When he returned to his beloved he found her right where he had left her; hand clutching at her neck and shaking violently, still on the floor.

"Elena…" he approached her warily, but still she scampered back from him, pressing herself further into the wall.

"Elena, it's okay; I won't hurt you," he tried to console her. She only continued to stare blankly at him.

Seeing she was too distraught to move, he walked to his bathroom at a slow, human pace, dampening a wash cloth before returning to her. He reached out to wipe her neck clean of the blood but she scurried away from him again.

"Here," he said softly, handing her the towel.

"He…he attacked me…" she stuttered in shock.

"Elena, I'm so…"

"Don't," she cut him off, her voice bitter with betrayal. "Don't you _dare_ tell me you're sorry."

"Elena, you're losing too much blood; we need to heal you," he said gently, offering her his freshly nipped wrist.

"Just get away from me!" she screamed at him.

Reeling from her sudden outburst, he tried to remain calm. "Elena, I know you're upset…"

"Upset?!" She screamed, incensed. "He _attacked_ me Damon! He bit me!"

"Elena…"

"Just get away from me!" she yelled again.

"Fine!" he snapped back at her, his patience breaking.

He left her in the room, going downstairs to make them both coffee and pour them each a large glass of Bourbon; they would both need it that morning. He was relieved to finally hear the sink in his bathroom begin to run a few minutes later; apparently she had decided to begin the slow process of pulling herself together.

When she eventually descended the long staircase, she was fully dressed and holding a new towel to her neck in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. She found him in the parlor, sitting in his favorite leather wingback and holding a glass tumbler out for her in an obvious sign of truce; she took it from him without a word, and drank it all quickly. As soon as she was done, he exchanged her empty glass for a hot cup of coffee; she didn't hesitate to take a deep pull from it before stopping suddenly.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, throwing the mug directly at him. He was easily able to sidestep the scorching liquid, the mug shattering loudly on the floor behind where he had been sitting.

"What the hell Elena?"

"You put blood in my coffee!" It wasn't a question, it was an accusation.

"Damn right I did; you needed it and you were being stubborn. Like always…"

"How could you do that to me?!"

"Get over it Elena," he said, going around to pick up the pieces of the shattered cup. He had just begun to gather them when there was a second crash at his feet; this time it had been a crystal glass she had thrown at him.

"What is wrong with you?!"

"You drugged me!"

"I didn't drug you Elena, I healed you. If you can't tell the difference I don't know what to tell you…"

"You. Could. Say. You're. Sorry!" She yelled at him, punctuating every word with another glass thrown.

"That's enough Elena!" he commanded, speeding over to her and pinning her arms to her sides in an effort to cease her tantrum.

"Number one: stop breaking my crystal. Number two: I am not _allowed_ to say I'm sorry, remember? And number three: I wouldn't apologize to you anyways. You needed my blood, I gave it to you. Stop acting like a child."

"Let go of me," she continued to shout, twisting in his hold.

She managed to get one arm free and tried to yank herself away, but before she could fully escape he had control of her again. He didn't hesitate to lock his arms around her, securing her back to his chest. She never stopped fighting him.

"Elena, calm down," he tried to say as soothingly as possible but with enough authority that she would hopefully listen to him.

"No! Let me go!"

"Not until you calm down..."

He saw her wound had healed thanks to the blood he had slipped her, but the evidence of Stefan's attack was still pooled on her shirt. It didn't bother him though; he was never more in control of his bloodlust than when she was near him.

She continued to struggle but her resolve was quickly breaking. She was openly crying again, overwhelmed with all the emotion of the last 12 hours. Sagging in his arms as he continued to hold her, she knew she was losing the war raging inside of her.

"My fault…my fault…" he heard her whisper.

"Elena, this is not your fault," he said, trying to keep her upright as her knees buckled.

He loosened his grip enough so he could re-position her on the couch, but with his hands still resting protectively on her arms. Kneeling before her, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear while she stared at the floor, looking hopelessly lost.

"Elena, look at me," he told her, and waited to continue until she did as he requested. "None of this is your fault…"

"Yes it is!" She roared back to life. "I deserved it; he leaves to _save your life_ and I practically cheated on him! Think of what that looked like… No wonder he did…what he did."

"You did nothing wrong," he said sternly, praying she would believe him.

"How can you say that?" she whimpered.

"Because; it's the truth."

"Bullshit," she spat at him. "Somebody is always to blame…"

"You're right, but it's not you. This is Stefan's fault," he said while trying to reign in his anger.

"Don't you _dare_ blame him! Klaus did this to him; he's not himself."

"Elena, any compulsion Klaus' had over him broke when he died! Stefan is high on human blood."

"See? It's not his fault..."

"How can you possibly sit there and continue to defend him?"

"Well, somebody has to…" she sneered.

"Ugh!" He grunted, throwing his hands in the air while walking away from her; he was completely fed up with her ridiculous loyalty to his brother.

"Don't walk away from me; we're not done!" She challenged as she rose to follow him.

"Yes, we are."

"How could you do this?"

"Me?!" He yelled at her, enraged. "I don't know if you noticed Elena, but _he's_ the one who almost killed you, not me. _He's_ the one who left you behind, not caring whether you lived or died. In two months have you heard a word from him? No! _I'm_ the one who's been taking care of you, having to listen while you cry yourself to sleep every night. And once again, _I'm_ the one that saves you, and you're going to blame me?!"

"I never asked you to save me; I don't want to _be_ saved! You should have just let me die in the sacrifice; then none of this would have happened…"

"How can you say that to me when I just had to bury Katherine? And Stefan would have left no matter what," he sneered, turning away from her.

"Fine. Then it's your fault."

"What?" He whispered, turning to face her in shock at what she had dared to accuse him of.

Marching up to him, pointing her finger in his chest she declared, "_You're_ the one he was trying to save, and _you_ just let him go. And then, last night…You had no right!"

"What are you talking about? _I haven't fucking touched you and you know it!_"

"I am not _yours_ to love!"

The disturbing honesty of her words forced him take an unnecessary breath; both of their chests heaving with the heat or their battle.

"You know what, you're right," he prodded her sarcastically. "He's downstairs Elena; go ahead, run back to him! Maybe this time you'll get your wish and he'll finish the job he started! Don't worry; I won't try to stop you this time…"

The force of her strike caught him off guard; it wasn't the first time she had slapped the ever-loving-shit out of him, but this one had hurt in more ways than one.

"You bastard…"

"Yeah, just continue blaming me sweetheart; whatever helps you sleep at night." His voice was seeped in a hatred she had never known existed. "In the meantime, why don't you get the fuck out of my house!"

"Stay away from me," she said, turning to leave.

"Gladly. Now. Get. Out."

* * *

"So do you know what happened?" A woman whispered to another.

"No, they say she just died…"

"This is so sad; she was too young…"

"I know. But it's kind of odd, right? She was the picture of health, and then she just gets sick and dies in a few days? I mean, I just didn't think that happened anymore…not these days."

"I know; I'm just glad her parents were already gone so they didn't have to bury her. No parent should have to bury their children."

"I really think the only way anyone is going to get through this is by knowing they're all together now…"

"I agree; oh, it's starting…"

A blonde haired young man took the podium at the front of the church, nervously clearing his throat before beginning to read the folded paper he had pulled from his coat pocket.

"We are gathered here today to mourn and remember our beloved friend. She was…she was a ray of light in this town that has seen some very dark days. None as dark as the day we lost her…

"She was active in her community, her compassion for others something we should all aspire to. Something I aspire to…

"I've known her, knew her, all my life, and I'm heartbroken thinking of all the memories we will never get to make. She won't stand beside me as we graduate, and she'll never get to grow up and have the family she always wanted…

"But she will now always be young, and she will always be beautiful; and even though she will never again stand next to me, she will always be with me in my heart.

"She was my best friend, and there will never be a day that I won't think of her, and miss her.

"I hope you rest in peace Jennifer; we will always love you."

* * *

"Open up witchy! I can hear you breathing; I know you're in there…" Damon called through Bonnie's front door. He would have just walked in if he could, but he had never been invited in.

"Go away Damon," she said from somewhere in the house.

"Nope. Now you can come outside and talk to me or I can start draining people on your front lawn. Your choice..."

"What is wrong with you?" She spat at him as she swung open the door.

He was waiting for her to make his brain explode in the invisible flames she loved to torture him with, but she made no move to do so and the pain never came. Knowing she could cause him that much physical agony had given her too much power in their interactions, and it didn't sit well with him. He couldn't help but antagonize her as retaliation for her having the upper hand.

"Nice to see you too," he said with the most sarcastic smile he could muster. "I need your help."

"What makes you think I would help you with anything?" She said defiantly, making a show of crossing her arms while glaring at him.

"Again; bodies, lawn, your choice."

"What do you want Damon?"

"Much better," he smirked. "Katherine died two minutes after she ripped Klaus' heart out of his chest. I need to know why."

"Katherine died?"

She honestly seemed shocked at the knowledge, throwing him off his game.

"Elena didn't tell you?" he asked, clearly skeptical.

"I haven't talked to her…"

"Right," he scoffed. "I need to know what happened, Bonnie."

"How am I supposed to know?" She said with more attitude than she would have dared if she had really known how dangerously close he was to losing control…

"Why don't you ask your little witch friends? You know; the ones at the haunted house you adore so much?"

"I don't have access to them anymore; they cut me off after I brought Jeremy back to life. I figured Elena would have told you…"

"We're…taking a break," he grimaced.

"Good." She glared at him, judgment pouring off of her.

"Whatever Bonnie; just figure it out. And soon."

"I don't know what you expect me to find, but did you really think that there _wouldn't_ be consequences for killing an Original?"

"What do you mean?"

"Those daggers were spelled so that they would kill any vampire who used them. Considering they don't work on Klaus as a hybrid, I wouldn't be surprised if he had some sort of variation of the spell actually _on him_ in case anyone tried to kill him."

"See? Helpful already…track down that spell Bonnie or I swear to God your neighborhood is going to get a lot quieter. Permanently."

"Get off my porch…" She said boldly.

"No problem," he smiled, walking away. Calling over his shoulder he added, "Tell Elena that Stefan's awake so she can go skipping back into his psychotic arms as soon as she damn well pleases…"

"What?" She exclaimed, but he never responded.

She carefully watched as the vampire drove off, shutting the door behind her as his car disappeared from sight.

"Stefan's home?"

"Yeah…there's a lot we need to talk about," Elena said quietly.

* * *

**A/N: If you're a little confused, it's okay. You're kinda supposed to be; but hang with me guys, I promise I have reasons for my madness *laughs evil-ly.**

**I will continue to try to update as quick as I can; I honestly can't thank you all enough for the tremendous response and support. You are what drives me to post that much faster. Please continue to follow, r/r, I love and cherish all of your thoughts and comments.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	5. Finding Home

**A/N: Hey you incredibly awesome readers! Long chapter ahead. Was going to be two, but I kinda wanted them to stick together. **

**Keep in mind: From the deepest parts of hell do you see the greatest heights of heaven. Enjoy**

* * *

Elena was a coward. She had never thought of herself as one, but now she knew it was true. She knew it because she had hid out at Bonnie's for three days until her friend had kicked her out. She had told her she wouldn't help her hide anymore. It was the only place he couldn't get to her.

She knew that she couldn't face him, not after what she had done.

She had loved him and comforted him when he needed her, then threw it in his face. She had blamed him harshly for things that weren't his fault; things she had already been worried he was blaming himself for.

She was the worst kind of monster.

She was worse than the kind that drank people's blood for pleasure, happily terrorizing the innocent. She was worse than the kind that ripped them apart, leaving bodies piled high. She was the kind that gathered your deepest fears and secrets, then used them against you to her advantage. She hadn't even cared to register the unforgiveable amount of pain she had caused him; at the time all she could think of were the ways she could hurt him more than she was hurting herself.

Elena threw up. Again.

She had lost count of the number of times she had been sick over the last three days. Every moment from the time Klaus had arrived until Damon had kicked her out of the house replayed in her mind with perfect clarity. It always ended with her hunched over the toilet.

With every heave she swore that she would never be cruel again. That she would take it all back if the pain would just stop. Crawling back to her bed she would find relief for a few moments, letting herself catch her breath and still her mind. But her heart was angry at her for her cowardice and every time she passed the opportunity to make good on her plea to rectify her wrongs, it would punish her again.

She was weak; physically, emotionally, mentally. She felt like she was dying and she knew why. She was just too scared and too tired to fight for it right now while she was bent over in her bathroom. What if her life didn't want her anymore? After all, she couldn't blame him; not after what she had done.

She heaved again.

* * *

4 Days / 96 Hours

17 Bottles of Bourbon

8 Bottles of Whiskey

3 Blondes

2 Redheads

He was on a bender that he would never forget, that he didn't remember.

He couldn't remember coming home. He didn't know where he had stashed the bodies. Had he killed them? He couldn't remember…

He had never been this drunk in all of his years as both a human and a vampire. He needed to be drunker still; the words weren't going away. They were hard mother-fuckers to kill.

"_It's your fault…"_

"_You should have let me die…"_

"_I don't want to be saved…"_

"_I'm not yours to love…"_

"Fuck," he mumbled, reaching out for another bottle. His fingers hit one but it rolled away, clanking loudly against another. _Was he on the floor?_ That's right, he remembered; he hated his bed now and had refused to lay in it, throwing it against the wall so he wouldn't have to look at it.

Fucking bitch had ruined everything.

He had waited for her at her house for a day, but she never came home. He had checked his phone every minute, waiting for a message that never came.

He had finally found her at Bonnie's.

He had needed to talk to the witch anyways but that wasn't why he had gone there. He had to know she was safe; even if she hated him, even if he hated her. He had made a promise…him and his fucking promises. He would never make another one as long as he walked the earth.

After he left Bonnie's house he had parked his car then ran back to the house, hiding in the trees like the coward he was. He would have busted through the door to get to her if he could, but he couldn't. She had picked the one place to hide where he couldn't get to her.

Now who was the coward?

He waited for her to leave, but she was smart. She never crossed the barrier that kept her safe from him, ready to ambush her with apologies and beg her forgiveness for the way he had treated her, talked to her. Instead she just hid from him.

He couldn't count the number of times he had stood outside Bonnie's door, poised to knock; but his hand always pulled back at the last minute. He couldn't appear so weak…

He had spent 24 hours outside the witch's house before he left to begin his high dive straight into a whirlwind of alcohol and blood.

She thought he was strong. Strong enough to carry all her bullshit and deal with her immature whining and tantrums. Strong enough to lash out at because if she didn't take it out on him, it would have turned itself on her. He had known better than to cave to her attacks, but he couldn't help but defend himself against her repeated assaults.

He wanted to be that strong. He hated the idea of what all that pain and all that anger would do to her if she let it settle on herself, so he let her take it out on him. He always had. It didn't mean it didn't hurt like a motherfucker though…

He had always been surprised at how deep she could cut him. He had never meant for her to have that much power, that much control over him. He had never wanted that again after Katherine.

Katherine…

He crawled (he couldn't stand if he had wanted to) to the bathroom where his pants were from the night he buried her. He searched his pockets, relieved when he felt it.

The bracelet was cool and delicate in his hands, and the memory of her consumed him. He loved her. He hated her.

"Fucking bitch," he mumbled before he passed out again.

* * *

She had made it. She had survived another night in the house that was no longer her home. It felt empty and cold now compared to the warmth of the boarding house. She yearned for the deep mahogany walls, the fire that was always burning in the parlor. The smell of his cologne wafting through the halls…

She missed him.

She forced herself to eat something knowing she would need all her strength to make it the short drive over there. It would do neither of them any good if she died in a car crash before she could apologize.

Her heart and body had recognized that she was finally ready to make good on her promise to make it right, and it had given her a temporary reprieve from the sickness. She was still far from well and she looked it having bags under her eyes, not to mention her hair was dirty and matted.

She took the fastest shower she could and didn't bother to blow dry her hair before throwing it up in a messy knot. She skipped the makeup; she didn't have the time or the energy. She felt like if she didn't get to him soon she would die; her body had already begun to shut down.

As she arrived at the house she almost turned around and left when she saw the front door. She couldn't handle the rush of memories that flooded her of the last time she walked through it. Steadying herself, she got out of the car; she's come this far, she couldn't turn back now.

She stopped again when she realized his car wasn't there. Had he left? Had she finally driven him away for good? He had promised he would never leave her, but she knew she wouldn't blame him if he purposely broke every promise he had ever made just to spite her. She deserved it.

If it had been hard before, it was a thousand times worse now to think that she would find the house empty of him. She honestly hadn't even considered the possibility that he might leave, until she had arrived.

"Damon?" she called out as she stepped inside. Nothing happened. When she was living there he would always let her know where he was in the house by making some innocuous noise loud enough for her to hear, whether it was him setting a glass down too hard on a table or throwing a new log in the fire; he would always lead her to him. He had always has this way of talking to her, without actually speaking a word.

She had taken so much for granted, and all she wanted was to go back to the time when it was the two of them again. They had been in hell waiting for Stefan's return, but he was back and she couldn't find herself even remembering what had been so infallible about their supposed love that she had shut down for two months.

And now that he had returned, after what he did, she was done. She knew that one day he would eventually become the old Stefan, the one she had fallen in love with, but it was over. She had said her goodbyes to him as soon as she left the boarding house the last time. She would always love him, but it could never, would never, be the same now.

If she ever got another chance at the life she hadn't realized she loved so dearly, she would do it right this time. She would gladly go through hell again as long as she was with Damon.

She would reciprocate every selfless act he made and she would take care of him like he took care of her. She'd stop lying to them both and for once just be honest about how she felt. That was all he had ever asked of her, to fight for what she wanted and what she needed.

She needed him. She wanted him. She was in love with Damon.

"Damon?" she called again, beginning to panic. Grief was settling over her fast for the life she had thrown away.

She finally heard it, a noise. He was calling to her.

She followed the sound of glass hitting glass, leading her upstairs to his room. She hadn't been sure what she expected to find, but it wasn't this.

His room was destroyed. His bedside table was overturned; his beloved books were splayed carelessly on the floor. His mattress was against the wall, she was sure he had thrown it in a fit of rage. There were empty liquor bottles _everywhere._ She didn't want to count them, she was afraid to because every single one screamed her name. She had done this to him.

Where was he?

She took a hesitant step inside and found him. His feet were barely visible, peeking out from the bathroom floor.

What was he doing on the floor?

"Fucking bitch," she heard him mumble. Then he was quiet.

So this is what he thought of her now? She had lost him then…

But, she just needed _one_ look…

One look and she could leave him; spare him from ever having to go through this misery ever again.

_Just one look_ she told herself.

One look was all it took.

He was lying on his back, empty bottles surrounding him like the devil's halo; her dark angel…

The light he had left on in his bathroom glimmered off something in his hand, and when she looked closer she recognized it immediately. Katherine's bracelet.

Falling to her knees at his feet, she let herself come apart. She cried for Damon, for her broken soul. She cried for every time she had hurt him, rejected him, and made him feel unloved and unworthy.

His breath hitched, _was he crying in his sleep?_

"Damon?" she crawled to him, cupping his face when she was near enough. His face was wet under her hands; he had been crying…

"God Damon, I'm so sorry," she sobbed, pushing back his hair from his forehead. He didn't stir.

She had done it; she had killed him. She hadn't needed a stake; she had torn his heart out with her words alone.

"Damon, open your eyes," she commanded, holding on to any resolve she could find. He still wasn't moving.

"Goddamn-it Damon opens your eyes! Look at me!" she begged hysterically.

A flutter of blue…

"Katherine?"

Her heat stopped, she was sure of it.

"No Damon, it's me. It's Elena…"

"Elena?"

"Yes Damon, it's Elena," she tried to muster a smile for him; his eyes were barely open. "I'm so sorry," she cried again before she could stop herself.

"No…" his eyes were closed again.

"Damon, open your eyes!"

"Leave..."

"No," she said firmly, "I'm not leaving you. I love you Damon…"

"No…"

"I do; I love you Damon," she pleaded with him.

"You don't know…what it means…to love…" he mumbled and was still once more.

Elena broke again.

* * *

He was on the floor…_In his bathroom? What was he doing in here? Why wasn't he in his bed?_ He remembered it all with a painful groan.

Vampires typically didn't get hung-over but when they did, it was not fucking good. The amount of alcohol it had taken to get him there would break any standing record for consumption, but it had worked. He had drunk himself into a coma, his temporary escape from the words still buzzing in his brain.

His muscles ached, his head throbbed. His body was trying to heal from the damage he had inflicted upon it but it was having a hard time catching up.

Repairing a shattered spine? No problem.

Recovering from a two day bender over his broken heart? He was practically paralyzed.

He had dreamt the strangest dream while he was sleeping and it wasn't fucking fair. He had drunk to forget her words, but in sleep had found her face.

Katherine had visited first, and then she morphed into Elena. It would seem strange to anyone else because of their shared face, but he had known the difference.

She had been crying, telling him she was sorry and she loved him; but he had told her to leave. He didn't want her ruining his sleep; he just wanted an escape, even if only for an hour.

He had said something else but he couldn't remember what. It didn't matter anyways, why worry about some stupid dream?

There was something cold in his hand. He looked at it and found he was holding Katherine's bracelet. He remembered coming to get it now. He let it fall unceremoniously from his hand and tried to stand. It was harder than he thought.

He stumbled into the shower; his tub was ruined for him now. He would have to get a new one; he couldn't stand to look at it without remembering how she had touched him.

Leaning against the stall as the water rushed over him, he realized he was starting to cry again.

_What the fuck? Since when did he cry so much?_

He could have pretended it was just the water on his face if he wanted, but why lie to himself? He had never understood why people did that; if you couldn't be honest with yourself what was the point? It was the only thing that really bothered him about Elena; that girl lived in a constant state of denial.

He was finally starting to sober up. It was taking longer than he wanted it to but it was happening. He stayed in the shower until he was almost healed; knowing by the time he was dry and dressed the he would be himself again.

Stepping out from the water he found a towel folded on the counter; he didn't remember putting it there, but then again he didn't remember a lot of shit from the last couple of days. He wrapped it around himself reflexively, and pausing, touched the skin where her fingers had tickled him. It didn't feel the same.

He needed to see her.

He didn't know where she was, but he would find her.

He wouldn't talk to her, he just needed one look.

One look to let her go; he had to. They couldn't keep doing this to each other; they would destroy each other.

Fucking Shakespeare…the man knew what he was talking about. Violent delights…violent ends. Fire and powder, kiss…consume, blah fucking blah. That was him and Elena all right.

Violent.

She'd scream at him, he'd yell at her, and then she would slap him. It had happened too many times already. It had to stop somewhere. Preferably, before he killed her; or her, him. He just had to make sure she was safe first…

He walked to his dresser extracting his underwear before making his way to the closet to grab a pair of jeans and a shirt.

Why were his clothes put away?

He did remember destroying his room, including pulling all his drawers out and emptying them of the floor, along with all the clothes from his closet. He didn't remember exactly why he had felt it necessary to do that (something about setting a fire, but then deciding his clothes were too precious to burn) but he knew he had done it.

He looked at his room carefully.

The bottles were gone. There had been at least 15 or 20 rolling around on the floor. His bedside table was righted, his books stacked neatly. Everything was back in order except for the mattress that was still against the wall.

That was his answer.

Someone had put his things away, cleaned his room for him. It couldn't have been Stefan; he was still locked in the cellar under the watchful eye of Caroline. Damon had given her the assignment of Ripper detox because he couldn't stand to look at his brother. Not after what he had done; what he had taken away from him, again.

He knew it hadn't been Caroline. She wouldn't have cared in the first place, and even if she had she wouldn't have left the mattress if she was already going through all the trouble…

Only one person had ever taken care of him like this, and try as she might she never would have been able to manage it on her own.

He was dressed in a second, trying to remember what he had said to her. She hadn't been a dream; she had been real and he had been too drunk to notice.

_God, the sight she must have found when she showed up here. What had he put her through again last night?_

Fuck. He had called her Katherine. That really did not sit well with him and he was sure it broke her heart; he would pay for that one.

He remembered her crying and repeating the same thing over and over.

"_I'm sorry Damon…"_

"_I love you Damon…"_

But that couldn't be right? Elena would never admit she loved him, especially now that Stefan was home. And yet, she had. He was sure of it.

He had said something back to her…_damn it, what had he said?_

He rushed to his bedside table to grab his keys, wallet and watch, placed exactly where they belong. _How did she know where everything went? _She had only been in his room a handful of times…

He saw it sticking out of his copy of Gone with the Wind, always the top book in his stack.

_They were in the right order…_

He loved Gone with the Wind, and wasn't ashamed of it. He thought Scarlett O'Hara was one of the sexiest literary characters of all time. Strong, full of fire, always making the wrong choices that let to disaster… when he read it, he always pictured Elena, and he couldn't help it. But it reminded him also of being human and the life he had lost.

He slipped the folded white paper from where it was held in place by the closed cover. He was terrified to open it; he knew this was the moment when he would have to decide to leave or stay.

It took him three breaths to gain the courage to unfold it.

_-Damon_

_I may be young, and not know what it means to love, but I'm willing to learn._

_You're the only person I want to teach me._

_I'm at my parent's house._

_-EG  
_

Damon just stared at the letter. He remembered saying those words to her now, but just barely. God, what he must have done to that girl…

At least he wouldn't have to look for her, getting to her that much faster.

_Why say her parent's house? Why not home?_

He knew the answer to his question before he realized it; he was her home now, just as she was his.

He needed her. Now.

He ran from the house in a blur. _Where was his car?_

Fuck it. He was faster on foot anyways, and he would have run across the country to get to her now if he had to.

It was dark outside. How long had he laid in his drunken stupor? How long had she been waiting for him? How long _would_ she wait?

He ran faster, panicking.

When he reached her house he finally stopped. Her window was open.

It had bothered him to no end, this dangerous habit of hers. You'd think with all the ways she's been harmed by vampires that she'd learn to lock her damn window…

She used to leave it open for Stefan, and he had always taken great pleasure in the fact that he would slip in her room was she was showering and lock it behind him, leaving the house through another window Stefan never checked, completely undetected. Stefan would leave to go to her house late at night and come back five minutes later looking all rejected and broody although he never told Damon why. But Damon had already known.

But after he found out that Katherine wasn't in her tomb, he had stopped doing it. It's not that he felt guilty for trying to sabotage his brother's happiness; he was just keeping his promise of an eternity of misery. The problem was that Stefan's happiness was entwined with Elena's, and he didn't wish anything bad upon her. Far from it.

And he didn't want to be locked out from her either; that was when it had started. Stefan would leave her to go hunt after she fell asleep, and he would slip in. He didn't know how Stefan had never caught Damon's scent in her room, but being observant was never Stefan's strong suit and he had no reason to suspect Damon would even be there.

He had never done anything; he just wanted to check on her sometimes. Stefan was naïve to leave her so unprotected. The girl was a magnet for trouble and Damon wouldn't have been able to sleep knowing his brother had left her alone (with that fucking window open) so he could feed on Thumper.

Not only that, but she seemed so at peace when she was asleep, it reminded him of when he was human and made him felt calm when his world had ended.

Her window wasn't open for Stefan tonight. She was technically still his, not that she was a possession but they had never officially broken up. It all seemed to juvenile and stupid. He had lived with, lived for, and loved his brother's girlfriend. The brother who had tried to kill her.

And she loved Damon; he knew she did. He had known it before she had…

Stupid teenage drama.

He decided; she was _his_ now. Title be damned.

He contemplated for a second just using the front door. She was the only one there; Jeremy had moved in with Ric at the loft right after Jenna died and Damon didn't blame him. This house had death all over it.

But using the window just felt right. He had done it hundreds of times before, and knew the exact angle to land so he didn't make a sound as he stepped over her windowsill. What was one more time?

He landed silently as always. He was home; she was his home.

"Elena?"

* * *

**A/N: So yeah, Elena needed to suffer for the crap she pulled last chapter and I have no problem dragging her through hell. Damn plot, I know there is one here somewhere, it just got pushed back a chapter or two (which 6 will hopefully be up tonight). I blame Damon, boy has got a mind of his own like a mf'er. Still long way to go yet, thank you all so much for r/r, every hit and every follow means the world to me.**

**-Goldnox**


	6. Out of Order

**A/N: Was able to get this ready faster than I thought :) VERY long chapter, was once again supposed to be split due to length but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I think what's written together should stay together, and this was one long ride.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Elena?"

She wasn't in her room…

She was in her bathroom, her heartbeat told him that. He would wait until she came out, he decided; then he heard her get sick.

He couldn't get to her fast enough.

She was sitting on her feet, but barely. She was leaning far to one side, her body sagging in exhaustion from trying and failing to support her own weight. Her arms were locked over the bowl, hand to elbow, her head resting on her forearms; and as he watched, a spasm twisted her body and she was sick once more.

He didn't hesitate as he rushed to her and held her hair back, waiting for it to end. He would have died a thousand deaths if it had meant he would never have to witness this again. He couldn't stand to see her in so much pain and having no control over her own body.

When she was finished, he wet a towel with cold water and laid it on the back of her neck while she wiped her mouth. When she finally turned to look at him her face was full of shame, guilt, relief, and a surrender that took his breath from him.

"It's okay, just breathe," he told her as he gently pressed the cool cloth to her face.

"Damon?"

"Not right now," he told her. They would have time to talk later.

She only managed a slight nod before her eyes fluttered and she collapsed against him.

He had caught her by reflex, but it had still taken him by surprise. He had witnessed her at her worst before, but that had been nothing compared to what he was seeing now.

He had seen her cry, seen her buckle, seen her break under the stress of all the destruction of the last year, but never had he seen her faint. It scared the living shit out of him that her mind had forced her body to shut down in a last ditch effort to keep her alive. And she looked like she was on the verge of death.

He studied her as he cradled her against him; her skin was the wrong color and hanging a little too loosely.

_When had she last eaten or been able to keep anything down? _

Her eyes were rimmed in blue shadows; God only knew the last time she had slept. Her pulse was inconsistent and weak…

_What had he done to her?_

He didn't know if it would help but he was desperate to try anything at this point… She'd be furious when she found out but he didn't care; he'd happily suffer her wrath if it meant she was alive to hate him.

Before he could talk himself out of it he bit into his wrist and pressed it to her lips, silently willing her to drink and heal. It was a monumental sense of relief to him when she started to pull from his skin; he could feel his blood flow redirect to pour into her waiting mouth.

He let her drink more than he probably should have, but he couldn't bring himself to make her stop; it was working. Light color had started to flush her cheeks and her pulse was already stronger.

As gently as he could he carried her to her bed and laid her down to let her continue sleeping. She didn't move for hours, but her breathing was steady and comforting to him as he held her while she healed.

He was running his fingers through her hair, trying to untangle it as best he could when two wet lines rolled down her cheeks. _She was crying?_ But she was still asleep, he was sure of it…

He had only entered her mind once before and he had sworn that he would never do it again, at least never without her consent. But he had to know what was happening in her mind, what was so awful that her body was crying without her knowledge. He would never deceive her or manipulate her; he just needed to witness her nightmare.

Slipping into her dream he took a second to find where he was, and as soon as he recognized the scene before him he immediately regretted his decision to invade her thoughts. But seeing why she was so upset, he couldn't leave her to face this alone.

He approached her slowly; he honestly didn't know how she was going to react to his presence. He sank down behind her and placed a light hand on her back while she sobbed, bent over and clinging to the body that was lying on the floor. His body.

She was reliving the scene in his bathroom where she had found him drunk and comatose. His eyes were closed, unresponsive to the woman who was showering him with tears and apologies.

He saw the bottles that encircled him and Katherine's bracelet in his hand on display for her. She had not missed a single detail and it crushed him to know this image was inside of her, tormenting her.

He looked dead beneath her fragile, shaking body.

Lightly gripping her shoulders, he tugged slightly, wanting to get her to leave the nightmare behind. She finally recognized his presence and looked up to try to understand the change. He could feel her mind resisting at first but she soon let herself go when shelooked into his eyes.

"Damon?"

"Hey," he smiled at her sadly.

She threw herself at him, squeezing her arms around him with all her strength. He held her back just as tight; he didn't have to worry about physically hurting her in her dream world. As he ran his hands up and down her back, she finally let the nightmare slip away and he found that they were now in a haze of swirling colors.

"I don't understand," she said, pulling back to look at him.

"You're dreaming," he whispered, running his fingers over her face. She was healthy and perfect here and he let his touch ghost over the places where the circles under her eyes had been and her cheeks should have been hollowed. He let his thumb graze over her full lip and he had to fight back the desire that roared inside him.

He had almost missed it the first time she kissed him, and he wouldn't ruin it again. He would have to wait a little longer; he wanted it to be real when he touched her.

"You're safe in your bed and I'm right next to you," he explained, trying to ease her confusion.

"But how are you _here_?"

"You stopped taking vervain a little more than a month ago," he confessed. She hadn't known that he knew.

"How did you know?"

"How do I know anything about you Elena? You're the most important thing in the world to me; everything you do matters. How could you think I _wouldn't_ notice?"

"I don't know. Denial, I guess…"

"Hmm…" he smiled at her long overdue honesty.

"Damon, I'm so sorry…"

"Sweetheart you don't have to apologize to me. _I'm_ sorry. I knew better than to get wrapped up in your anger… I'm so sorry that I wasn't as strong as you needed me to be. I'll never stop trying to make this up to you."

"Damon, none of this was your fault! I shouldn't have said what I said… I didn't mean it, and it wasn't fair to you."

"Thank you…" he said quietly.

"I love you Damon," she cried.

"Elena," he sighed, hugging her again, "I know. And I love you. But right now you need to rest…"

"How do you expect me to go to sleep right now? That's impossible…" she shook her head as she pulled back to look at him.

"Sweetheart, you're already asleep," he smiled at her again.

"This is so weird…"

"I know; just try to relax and let everything else go."

"I don't want to let go; I want to stay here," she pleaded.

"I promise I'm right next to you, and I'll be there when you wake up. Just sleep Elena," he whispered, and she felt a calm rush over her before it all just faded away.

* * *

When she woke she found herself wrapped in his arms just as he had promised. His eyes were closed as his head rested against her headboard, a look of complete serenity on his face.

She felt a hundred times better than she had when he had found her, and she knew it had more to do with the arms protectively around her than the blood that was on her lips. She didn't remember drinking from him, only seeing his hazy face in her bathroom before it had all gone black.

"I know you're awake," he breathed without opening his eyes. She couldn't help but smile. "You look better," he said finally looking at her, relief plain on his face.

"Thank you…for healing me."

"I'm sorry Elena; I couldn't help it. You were so weak…"

"You don't have to apologize for loving me," she said.

All the words from their fight were in reverse now, and the fact that she had taken them back in this way made him love her even more.

"When was the last time you ate Elena?"

"Before I found you…" she mumbled, looking away.

"That's too long," he told her, clearly concerned.

"I'm sorry."

"No more apologies," he whispered and she nodded her silent agreement. "Can you stand?"

"I think so," she said; she still felt so weak.

She stumbled as she stood, but he rounded the bed in a flash and caught her. He always caught her, she knew he always would.

"I got you," he soothed her, scooping her up as he had done countless times before.

"I'm…"

"No," he smiled at her, reminding her of her agreement.

"Sorry," she said reflexively, clamping her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it. "Sorry, it slipped," she said with a laugh at her inability to _not_ apologize.

"Elena!" he smiled at her while he shook his head at her, laughing right along.

She was so close to him, gazing up at him in love and total comfort at being in his protective hold. He could close the distance all too easily but he knew now was not the time; not yet. If he so much as kissed her he would never leave this room.

As a vampire he had learned an almost abnormal amount of control over his bloodlust, but he was also a man and he could only resist her for so long. She seemed determined to put his strength to the test.

She had raised her hand to him, her thump brushing over his cheek as she wound the rest of her fingers through his hair. He felt the lightest of pulls against his neck but he didn't move. He didn't want to hurt her feelings but he had to take care of her first.

"Food first," he whispered in a promise that let her know that he wasn't rejecting her, he was just waiting. Thankfully she smiled at him, no trace of hurt or embarrassment to be found.

"Okay," she agreed.

He carried her down the stairs before settling her on the counter; he had made sure she was steady before he moved away to retrieve some water for her. He had made her drink it all before he would allow her any coffee, always keeping a watchful eye on her as he made her breakfast.

He tidied while she ate, stealing satisfied glances from her as he moved in silence. She was still eating when he was finished so he sat in a chair at her kitchen table, leaning back to let his feet rest on the seat opposite him.

He drank deeply from his own cup, relishing in the warmth of the liquid while she watched him from her perch. They had barely spoken a word since he had carried her downstairs, but that was just their way. They had always communicated better in silence anyways, letting their eyes tell each other what their lips had dared not say.

She breeched it when she sat her empty plate down, sounding truly satisfied as she said, "I'm full…"

"How do you feel?"

"Better… and gross," she confessed with a wrinkle of her nose.

_God, he loved it when she made faces like that…_

She was obviously feeling a little self-conscious, but he didn't care about her state of hygiene. He would have ravished her if she were dripping in mud; and he _hated_ mud. But he wanted her to feel comfortable and clean and desired, and she couldn't do that when she felt admittedly "gross".

Setting his cup down, he went to her and placed a strand of her dirty hair behind her ear.

"You have never been more beautiful," he told her, meaning every word. They hadn't really acknowledged it since the dream the night before, but he knew she was ready to give herself to him.

"Liar," she teased.

"No Elena; I would never lie about this," he said, letting his eyes roam over her face, trying to memorize every inch of her perfection.

She reached for his face and pulled again, but once more he resisted. This time her reaction betrayed her, showing her frustration at his refusal of her.

"Not yet; just let me take care of you first," he pleaded while removing her hands from his skin. His self-control was crumbling and he knew all it would take would be one final push and he would give in to her.

"That's what I'm asking for…"

"Sweetheart, I know you. You want to get clean first. We're in no rush," he whispered, lightly kissing her forehead.

"Thank you," she conceded, adding with a bit of sass, "I hate it when you're right."

She must have been feeling better, she looked healthy and perfect again; she was coming back to life right before his eyes. He silently sent a heartfelt thank you to the God in heaven for letting him keep her for a little while longer.

"May as well get used to it," he teased her back, causing her to laugh heartily. _Thank you, thank you, thank you…_he prayed again.

"Ready?" he asked her warily, still unsure if she would fall as soon as she was on her feet.

"Yes," she said confidently, answering the real question between them. He was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe, which was always odd to him considering he was technically dead. But he didn't feel dead with her, she had brought him back to life…

Helping her down, they both waited to see if she would collapse again; when she didn't they couldn't help but laugh. They were being so cautious right now, but there were so many reasons for it. It was just the way things were.

They climbed the stairs hand in hand and she led him right to her bathroom. He had turned to leave after he had filled the tub for her, giving her the privacy to bathe alone. He wasn't prepared when she stopped him.

"Stay with me…"

"Elena, are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she promised as she stood in front of him.

There it was; the final push.

He suddenly realized how nervous he was which greatly unsettled him. He was _never_ nervous around women, he was usually overly, but correctly, confident in his abilities as a man. But this was _Elena_, and he had to do this right.

She took his hands in hers and placed them at the hem of her shirt.

"I trust you," she whispered before raising her arms over her head, asking him to do what he had wanted, and waited, to do for longer than he cared to admit.

He took his time, revealing her skin inch by inch. He could hear her heart racing but she looked calm and sure as she turned around, and indicated to her back.

"Unhook me please…"

He followed her lead and gingerly unclasped her bra, slipping his fingers under the straps at her shoulders and sliding them all the way down to her wrists before letting it fall to the floor.

She gave him a reassuring smile over her shoulder as she slipped off her bottoms; shimmying her hips in a way that made his mouth go instantly dry.

"God, you're beautiful…" he couldn't help but whisper.

Turning to face him, she let him inspect her body with a ravenous need. She didn't startle when the veins snaked around his eyes and she loved that he didn't hide from her. He was never ashamed of whom he really was, and she wouldn't be either. He would never allow her to feel anything but safe.

After she had let him look her over, she sank herself into the tub.

"Join me?"

He couldn't get a handle on what was happening. He had just undressed her in a way that had bested all of the different ways he had fantasized about her. He had never expected that if this day were to finally come, that she would be the one leading him.

He tried to rectify the fact that while he had now undressed her, and seen her, he still hadn't kissed her. Everything they were doing was out of order, but that's what made it perfect. Nothing about their complicated love had ever been right or easy, but he knew this was how it was always supposed to be. He would let her lead him to her, one slow step at a time.

She was waiting patiently for him to join her, telling him over and over with her eyes that it was okay, that she trusted him, and that he could trust her. He was ready to rip the clothes off his body, but he knew that's not what she wanted, what she needed. She needed him to go slow as he gave her every last piece of him, so he did his best to try to take his time.

She watched enraptured as he first removed his shirt, working the buttons one at a time in the same way she had done. Taking a shaky breath to steady himself, he slipped off each of his boots and unclasped his watch before he reached for his belt, finally stepping out of his jeans.

Their eyes never left each other as he presented himself to her, and as nervous as he still was, he wasn't really scared of her anymore. She wouldn't reject him now, she wouldn't run.

"You're perfect," she whispered in awe as she looked him over carefully, letting her eyes touch every part of him before extending her hand out. He grasped it firmly and let her show him where she wanted him to be, and when he slipped into the warm water behind her, he felt like he was coming home.

"How do you feel?" he asked as she settled back into him. With his legs on either side of her, he reveled in the feeling of her soft, wet skin sliding against his.

"I feel wonderful," she sighed, and he believed her.

He worked his fingers over her from her neck down to her arms, and as their hands met and their fingers intertwined, he was having trouble finding where he ended and she began.

"I missed you," she whispered, lost in their haze of bliss.

He folded his arms over her, and with their hands locked her arms followed his; he couldn't resist hugging her tighter against his chest as he told her, "I think I missed you more…"

He saw the goose-bumps rise on her neck as his breath washed over her, and his mind obsessed over how delicious her skin would taste now. But he wouldn't let his mouth touch any part of her body before he had tasted her lips.

He continued to take his time washing her, being as careful with her as she had been with him; perhaps a little more cautious than she liked. He wouldn't let himself feel her breasts even though she was leaning in for the connection, growing frustrated that he was determined to savor her in the order of his choosing.

"You're teasing me Damon," she said quietly, pouting with tension from her unsatisfied lust.

"No sweetheart, I'm _enjoying_ you…"

She turned to face him so he could wash her hair, and he had needed to push firmly against her hips to keep her separate from him. He still hadn't kissed her yet.

"Patience Elena," he lovingly warned her.

"If you say so," she challenged him right back.

His plan had almost faltered when she had arched back while his hands were lathering her hair, her neck exposed and a line of soap slowly making its way down between her breasts. He had sworn he wouldn't touch her yet, that he wouldn't taste her yet, but that didn't mean he couldn't admire her.

She had stopped to look at him to see why he had suddenly gone still, and was visibly excited and proud by catching him looking at her with such unguarded desire.

"You okay?" she asked, knowing full well he was, but still she placed a reassuring hand on his cheek.

"Yep," he swallowed thickly at a complete loss for words.

"Good; just breathe Damon, it's only me…"

She continued to ease his nerves by leaning further back to give him a more complete view of her. She wanted him to see her, touch her, taste her, to take her as his own. She knew it wouldn't be long until he gave in to her wish.

He rinsed her hair clean and knew she was ready to leave the water behind. In another moment she stood and stepped over the edge, one long leg at a time. He felt the loss of their connection instantly and he couldn't take it anymore. He needed her. Now.

She stood waiting for him with an open towel, and as he stepped into it he delighted in the way it had tickled again when her fingers brushed against him; he hoped it would always feel like this. And as he secured her own towel, he couldn't help but hold his breath when his fingers dipped into the soft flesh at the top of her breast.

"How are you doing?" She knew he had to have the same desire roaring through him as she did, threatening to destroy her if she didn't sate it soon.

"I'm breathing," he admitted, trying to sound confident; it was the closest he would come to telling her how close he really was to losing the battle to take this slow.

"Good," she smiled.

Taking his hand, she led him the short distance into her bedroom and stopped when she reached her bed, turning to face him. She smiled warmly as she let her towel fall to the floor and sat on the bed, scooting back to let her head rest on her pillow.

He waited until she was settled before he revealed himself again and crawled up to meet her on the bed. He aligned himself against her side, propping his head up on his hand so he could look down and see her in all her open glory.

"What do you see when you look at me like that? It feels like you're discovering your own private world or something…" she asked quietly.

"I am…" he smiled. "I'm seeing you Elena."

With his free hand he brushed her wet hair off her neck and shoulder before finally cupping her face, running his thumb over her slightly parted mouth.

"I love you Elena."

"As I love you," she replied.

Keeping her face secure in his grasp, he slowly lowered his head and pressed his mouth into hers. The taste of her was electrifying, and he knew he would never get enough of her.

She trembled beneath his kiss and when he pulled back to give her a breath she had desperately needed, she was gasping from the intensity. He couldn't help but smile at her reaction to him, and he kissed her deeply again.

They stayed there for longer than he had intended, but he still had not had his fill of the way her breath felt against his tongue when he stopped to look at her.

Her cheeks were flush and her chest was heaving.

"Don't stop…" she pleaded, and he was mesmerized by her as she grew impatient; she refused to be denied what she was craving.

He placed one more kiss on her mouth before he dragged his lips to her neck, letting himself get lost in the taste of her skin. He now allowed his hand to move over her freely, holding and softly squeezing every place his mouth had yet to touch.

He worked over her slowly, vowing that he wouldn't miss an inch of her supple and waiting body while she arched into him, quivering in ecstasy.

When he knew she couldn't wait any more he pressed his lips to hers and let himself get lost in the haze produced by the way her tongue molded itself against his. Placing one hand on either side of her to support his weight, he looked at her one last time before the world would shift forever.

She knew he was waiting for her to let him know that she was ready, that this was what she wanted; she knew he would never rush her…

"Yes," she nodded, giving him the smile he needed to know they were still okay. "I love you Damon," she said before she stretched up to kiss him tenderly, and he claimed the last part of her that he had yet to feel.

She gasped into his mouth as he connected their bodies, letting her settle before he moved again.

"You okay?" he asked once she had caught her breath.

"Yes; just kiss me…please…"

He moved almost painfully slow at first, focusing on every shift and gentle push. He couldn't help but be tender with her; he wanted to feel _everything_ and drown in the sensation of her body as she wrapped herself securely around him. He didn't dare move faster for fear the intensity would quickly be his undoing.

They stopped to kiss and caress each other as often as they pleased; learning and exploring and always wanting more. They were desperate to prolong their union until it all became too much.

He was holding her hands above her head, his fingers interlaced with hers when she finally succumbed to the pleasure. He absorbed her moans into his mouth, using his weight to hold her still while she came apart beneath him.

When her heart began to slow back down he started to move again, burying himself farther in her than he had yet to do; all the while she urged him on, pulling at him to be deeper.

She drove him other the edge and hungrily watched him as he seemed to lose himself; he eventually came back to her, letting his head rest against her neck as he nearly collapsed in exhaustion.

Still wrapped around him tightly, she was running her hands over his back, feeling him tremble under her touch. He was still trying to recover from the over-intensity of their love, and she wanted nothing more than to have him stay there forever. Nothing in her life had ever felt more natural than to be wrapped around him, and to have him inside of her. This was home.

"I love you Damon," she couldn't help but whisper repeatedly, and he didn't hesitate to promise her the same.

"I'll never stop loving you Elena, I promise," he vowed before he brought his lips to hers in a kiss she knew she would never forget.

* * *

**A/N: So this is my first ever attempt at writing this kind of a scene (love to read them, but have never written it before). Hope it lives up, I had a very specific feel in mind for their first encounter and I hope it reads that way to all and not just me. As always, thank you immensely for the incredible amount of support; please r/r, can't wait to hear your thoughts. (I swear I'm going to get to the plot really moving in the next chapter, character's intentions (I'm talking to you Damon) be damned.)**

**-Goldnox**


	7. Defining Friendship

**A/N: Y'all are amazing in every sense of the word. Truly. Can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you reading those obituaries again?" his wife asked him.

"No…"

She snuck up from behind him and snatched the paper out of his hand. "Really? Then what's this?" she teased.

"Why would they print them if they didn't want people to read them," he retorted, taking back the newspaper.

"I love you, but you're crazy…" she said, kissing him on the top of the head before leaving the room.

"So sad…" he mumbled as he read the next one on the page.

_Eric James Caldwell, 30, passed away suddenly Tuesday in London following a sudden illness. Visitation will be Thursday from 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM at Thompson Funeral Home, followed by a memorial._

_James was born April 30__th__ to parents James Caldwell and Elizabeth Wilson-Caldwell. He graduated from Oxford University with a degree in Engineering and was an avid outdoorsman._

_He was preceded in death by both his mother and father, with no siblings._

* * *

Caroline was exhausted; she had been putting Stefan through Ripper Rehab and it was probably one of the worst experiences of her life, and that was saying something.

It had been incredibly hard on her to have to handle his detox. They hadn't been best friends or anything but they still had a connection. He had helped her through her own transition and taught her how to reign in her bloodlust when she had tried to kill Matt. He helped her find her humanity when she had wanted to give up, and he had been the one to convince Bonnie to make her a daylight ring. She owed him her sanity. Now she was pushing him to the brink of his.

Damon had told her that he would need her to handle Stefan; he couldn't look at him without the urge to just stake him and be done with it after he had attacked Elena and almost killed her. She could understand that; she was plenty angry with him for that too.

Damon explained that she would need to dry him out before they could switch him back to animal blood. Then they were going to have to convince him to turn on his humanity. Well, Caroline was going to have to do it because Damon was not going to participate. At all. She was on her own.

But once she was able to get him to _feel_ then could she start the process of teaching him control over human blood. Stefan's diet did not work. In Damon's words it was a delusional wagon he had built without the fourth wheel. He could hobble along for a while, but he would always fall off. It was built broken and enough was enough.

Damon then told her that if she couldn't fix Stefan that he would stake him, then her. _Asshole_. She had no idea if he was serious but she had no intention of finding out.

In the first two days of drying him out she had seen every aspect of Stefan's personality and it scared the crap out of her. _Where had her friend gone?_

He had screamed at her, threatened her, and called her every name under the sun. That didn't bother her so much. Then he started the pleading and it took all her resolve to ignore him. She had almost had to flip her own switch to drown out the way his beseeching pulled at her heart, but she stayed strong.

Then came the scary part; when Stefan realized that she wasn't going to cave he had turned on the charm. He tried to seduce her.

She was able to blow it off initially but that just drove him more. He said things to her that made her skin crawl, made her want to be sick. She had been about to just give up on him during day two when she figured it out; she would kill him.

Well, not permanently _stake-in-the-heart_ kill him, but more of a temporary _death/nap_ kill him.

She had stood at the bars and smiled, saying she was ready to take him up on his offer so his guard was nice and low; then she shot him full of vervain darts graciously supplied by Alaric. She had used four times more than she normally would have, but she wasn't going to take any chances in case he had been building up his tolerance while he was with Klaus. She doubted it, but still. Better safe than sorry with a Ripper.

She didn't doubt for a second that Stefan wouldn't hesitate to kill her after she attacked him. And it would be no temporary death for her; it would be a _Stefan's-hand-shoved-in-her-chest-and-ripping-out-her-heart_, death.

Once he was down she snapped his neck. That wasn't so bad.

Then she cut him. That sucked.

She wasn't about to spend years dealing with this like Lexi had and just wait patiently for him to dry out over time. She had a life, thank-you-very-much, and was ready to get back to it. And if she was anything, she was creative and efficient. So she slit his wrists.

She needed to drain him completely, so after his neck was nice and broken she put both of his hands in a bucket and opened his veins, letting the bucket fill. She had to cut him repeatedly because his wounds kept healing, but the more vervain she shot him with the slower they closed.

She snapped his neck every five minutes just to be safe. She couldn't lock the cellar door from the inside, and she was scared of him. But mostly she didn't want him conscious while she bled him dry.

Damon had been almost giddy at her "drug, snap, drain" detox program and even told her he was a little jealous he hadn't thought of it himself. Caroline was worried that he would want to help now. She was even more concerned that if given the chance to handle Stefan unsupervised he would skip the "snap" part and leave his brother awake while he emptied him of his blood. _No; even Damon wasn't that cruel, was he?_ She couldn't be sure.

She hadn't let him participate, but it hadn't mattered anyway. Damon had disappeared for two days after giving her the initial instructions, and then came home roaring drunk. He had been unsteady on his feet and reeked of Bourbon and blood when she had told him her plan. He had stayed that way for another two days; reason number two why she was being forced to do this alone.

She had still been bleeding Stefan out when she had heard Elena come over. And she had heard _everything._

Elena had no way of knowing that Caroline was there; her car wasn't at the house and she had made Damon swear that he wouldn't tell Elena that she was spending her days and nights torturing her (ex)boyfriend.

Her heart broke while having to listen to Elena cry and plead for Damon to wake up, to her continuous apologies and her declarations of love. She didn't know what had happened between them to drive them to that, but it must have been _bad_.

As much as she wanted to go to her friend and console her, she decided to stay with Stefan and snap his neck more repeatedly to make sure he stayed dead through the exchange. He didn't need to hear what was going on upstairs, and it would only make finding his humanity that much harder if he knew that he may have lost Elena to his brother.

Damon had seemed to forget that Caroline was even there, or maybe he had just thought she had left. He left the next night without asking for an update on his brother's recovery so he hadn't known that Stefan was now dry, currently an ashy corpse on the floor of the cellar.

Caroline went home for a while to recuperate and prepare before starting on stage two.

She had passed Damon in the driveway when she returned the next day. As he walked to his car he told her he wouldn't be back for a while, but that he had his phone and to call him if Stefan got out.

"Try not to get yourself killed," he had called over his shoulder, and then he just drove off and left her to tend to his brother.

She had called Elena immediately to make sure she was okay with Damon leaving, but couldn't bring herself to tell her friend this when she heard the happiness in Elena's voice as she answered. She had instead just quickly told her that she wanted to check in since she had been busy and would continue to be for the next few days.

Luckily, Elena didn't ask what she was doing that was keeping her so occupied, she just assured her that she understood and that she was fine before they disconnected. Caroline knew the best thing she could do for her oldest friend at that moment was to bring Stefan back to health, and she went into the house full of conviction driven by her love for Elena.

Stefan was still desiccated in the cellar when she went in; he would continue to be until he had blood. But there was no way Caroline was going to let him drink from a blood bag yet; he would have to recover his humanity before she could begin the slow process of teaching him control over his bloodlust. So bunnies it was…

She had always hated the animal diet Stefan had tried to get her on when she had first transitioned. Not only did it taste horrible but she didn't take well to killing small, defenseless animals; it felt more than wrong. So she had soon switched to blood bags as a compromise to consuming human blood without killing or hurting anything or anyone. But now she had to get the animal blood for Stefan. Gross.

She only allowed a few drops of blood to hit his lips from the bunny-filled bottle she had brought with her. It immediately started to work, plumping his skin out so the veins weren't so prominent; but he would need a lot more to really heal, and she had to take this one step at a time.

"Stefan, can you hear me?" She asked once his eyes opened.

"Where am I?" he croaked back.

"You're in the cellar of boarding house."

"What happened to me?"

"You're in Ripper Rehab," she said matter of fact-ly.

"What did you do to me?" he groaned, clearly in pain.

"I drained you Stefan; you were out of control."

"Caroline, I'm going to make you suffer for this in ways you can't imagine…"

"Well, to do that you're going to need your strength back and you're not getting any more blood until you turn your humanity back on."

"Fuck you. You can go die…"

"Already dead, but thanks anyways," she said with a smile that enraged him. "You ready to flip your switch yet?"

"Never."

"Fine; I'll be upstairs when you're ready to talk," she said and locked him in, taking the bottle of blood with her.

He grunted and whined downstairs for hours, stubbornly refusing to let his humanity back in. Impatient, she decided she was going to have to try to speed up the process again.

She knew that without his humanity that he couldn't feel. He didn't register emotional pain, love, or remorse, so she would have to remind him of that in the only way she could think of.

He was sitting against the wall when she went back downstairs. She didn't go inside; she didn't need to.

She entered his mind, and it was easier than she thought it would be thanks to his weakened state. She forced him to look at images of him and Elena being happy and in love. No response. She showed him images of him and Elena making love (she hated having to think of that, it felt like such an invasion of Elena's privacy but she _had_ to do it). Again, no response.

Then she showed him images Elena dying. She acutely felt a flicker of emotion run through Stefan's mind, but it had left as quickly as it came. He was resisting her with every bit of the small amount of strength he had, but she couldn't give up; and she knew Elena was the key to unlocking Stefan's emotions.

She spent three days torturing both him, and subsequently herself, with pictures of Elena's death. It was beyond exhausting to continually stay inside his head and the emotional drain and frustration was wearing her down. She needed a better plan.

While he had allowed that shadow of fear to return the first time she "killed" Elena, he now had absolutely no reaction to it as he became more and more comfortable with the idea. She started to sense a bit excitement from him as she flipped from image to image; she felt like she was taking him a step backwards. So she switched to Damon.

Her relationship with the elder Salvatore had always been complicated; she had held a bit of hidden gratitude for him for giving her his blood to try to save her human life after the car wreck that put her in the hospital.

He hadn't meant for her to turn; Katherine was the one that killed her, forcing her into transition. But she was still angry at him for how he had used her when they first met, and a part of her always would be even though she knew why he had done it. He had used her because of his love for Katherine, and then tried to save her because of his love for Elena. Their lives were all too complicated for their own good.

She found it almost _too_ easy to imagine killing him, especially as she clung to her anger. She was beyond pissed that he had abandoned Elena, especially now that Stefan had returned and attacked Elena. And how could he leave after Elena had told him she loved him? Caroline had clearly heard her friend tell him so, and his only response had been to tell her to leave. What the hell kind of response was that to the girl that he had pining for over the last year?

Elena was obviously better off without him if that's how he was going to react, but it still surprised her. He had been so supportive of Elena after Stefan had left with Klaus; anybody could see that. It had taken a few weeks for all of them (her, Bonnie, Jeremy and Alaric) to finally realize that the best thing for Elena at the time was to live at the boarding house under Damon's ever watchful eye. They didn't like it, but it had been what she needed. And they knew he would protect her.

She relished in the fury that surged through her at the thought of Elena and how destroyed she would be at Damon's disappearance. But she would recover in Stefan's arms, Caroline was sure of it.

She spent two days making Damon suffer in her and Stefan's mind. Stefan had another tremor of grief at first seeing his brother's dead and destroyed body, but just like he had with Elena, got it under control too quickly. She was losing this battle and she knew it.

On the sixth day she broke him.

She felt horribly guilty that she had made Stefan suffer so much, that she had tortured him to the point that he finally caved and let himself feel. She felt even worse about what she had shown him, what had destroyed him. She had shown him Damon and Elena _together._

She forced him to watch as the girl he was denying himself to love ran happily into the arms of his brother. She felt the jealousy he was trying to hide sneak through, so she pushed harder.

She imagined all the best parts of being in love; the time spent alone laughing and playing, the quiet moments alone, the serenity of waking up in the arms of the person you loved. She saw it all with Damon and Elena center stage.

Stefan was still resisting, but his resolve weakened more with every image.

When she showed him Elena and Damon making love, he crumbled.

He screamed at her to stop, begging and pleading for her to end it. She had pushed him one final time when she felt it come over her.

Stefan's overwhelming amount of emotion brought Caroline to her knees as she tried to retain control. The guilt, Stefan's guilt, was crushing her. The pain, the betrayal, all that damned guilt… She couldn't handle it and suddenly understood why he had flipped his switch. She would have too.

She pulled herself out of his mind and forced herself to look through the bars that separated her from her friend; she wanted to comfort him. She wanted to apologize, beg forgiveness for what she had done to him. She didn't.

She needed him to feel. She needed him to cry and scream. He did.

Stefan sobbed for hours under the crippling images she was sure he was remembering; images that hadn't been real, but had felt so true. Caroline wanted to hurl at every scream of torment. She had done this to her friend.

She was so grateful that he didn't turn it back off; she could never go through this again. She had expected him to force his humanity out after she really felt what he was fighting with. But Stefan seemed determine to push through it.

Every few hours she would re-enter his mind to check that he was really feeling and not just putting on the best show she had ever witnessed; she almost wished he was faking it. No one should ever have to feel that way, the way _she_ had _made_ him feel.

But he didn't turn it off.

* * *

"Knock, knock," she said.

"Hey Caroline," Stefan grumbled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Horrible, like I want to die."

"Sorry, that's not on the agenda for today," she said cheerfully. "Here, pep up," she said, throwing a fresh bottle of rabbit blood at him through the bars.

"No thanks."

"Stefan, do you want to stay in here forever? 'Cause I'm not letting you out until you start drinking. It's animal blood, I promise."

He didn't speak, but he retrieved the bottle and drank it all.

"Thank you Caroline, for taking care of me…I know this couldn't have been easy for you. And I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done, everything you're doing."

"Hey, what are friends for?" she said casually, but she had been touched by his gratefulness.

"How's she doing?" He asked quietly. They hadn't talked about Elena yet.

"She's okay," she said automatically, trying to sound upbeat.

She didn't actually know, she hadn't talked to her since their brief phone call over a week ago; but she hadn't received any emergency calls from her either. It had to be a good sign.

"Has anyone ever told you what a terrible liar you are?" he said with a faint smile. It made Caroline's heart soar to see that look on his face after everything he had just went through, what he was still going through.

"All the time," she laughed. Becoming serious she confessed, "I haven't talked to her."

"She must hate me," he choked out.

"Stefan, Elena loves you. This will all work out in the end, I know it."

"I know you can't let me out, but can I talk to her? I…I need to apologize…"

"I'll ask her," she promised. "Why don't you get some rest," she said, leaving her friend to suffer alone.

"Thank you," she heard him say as she climbed the stairs, knowing the thing he really did need the most right then was to see Elena.

She grabbed her phone as she left the house. She didn't know how Elena would react to Stefan's request and she didn't want him to overhear the conversation, especially if she refused. She couldn't bear to cause him any more pain at that point; he was barely holding on as it was.

She dialed her friend's number and grew more impatient with every passing ring. When Elena finally answered, Caroline was beyond confused. She sounded so happy; too happy…

"Hey Caroline!"

"Hey Elena," she said warily. Something was off. Then she heard it.

"Good bye Caroline," she heard Damon say in the background.

_Oh shit. _

Now it all made sense. Why Damon had left and not come back, why she hadn't heard from Elena. They were_ together_, and they were _happy_.

She wanted to be sick. Everything she had tormented Stefan with, the thing that had finally broken him, was now a reality. How would he ever hold on to his humanity when he realized his worst nightmare had come true?

"Caroline, you there?" Elena said in between giggles; Damon was snickering somewhere in the background.

"Umm, yeah," she said, trying to pull herself together and remain calm.

"What's wrong Care?"

"Stefan wants to see you…"

The other end of the phone went silent.

* * *

**A/N: So, Stefan was a little bit too much fun to torture. Didn't really plan on it but Caroline is one feisty little vamp, and she's got some awesomely twisted ideas. We'll get to see a little more of what was happening on the other end of that phone call next chapter, promise. Will try to continue to update asap. Have I mentioned that you are the most awesome readers EVER? Please continue to r/r, love to hear what you think.**

**-Goldnox**


	8. Dreams Within A Dream

**A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took a little longer than I intended to update, hubby needed some attention ;). Thanks for sticking with me, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

A sublime utopia. Nope, even that's not right. There were no words to describe this. Everything was just…_perfect._

And it shouldn't have been this easy, nothing ever was. It should have blown up in his face by now; he didn't deserve to be this happy, no one really did. But that wouldn't mean he wouldn't cherish every single second of it while it lasted.

It had been nearly impossible for Damon to leave Elena's house the morning after he had first made love to her. She had been pouty and frustrated at first, telling him she didn't understand why he had to leave. Wonderfully, she let him go once he told her he just needed to grab some clothes so they could stay at her house for a while. He didn't want them going back to the boarding house for the time being, and she agreed.

He didn't tell her that he needed to check in with Caroline for an update on how his brother was doing; he had promised Caroline he wouldn't tell her what was happening in the cellar. And as much as he hated the idea of keeping things from her, she didn't need to worry. More than that, he just wanted her to let herself relax and revel in their relationship as long as she could before they had to confront the Stefan issue. He knew it would be all too soon that his world would be crashing down when she inevitable returned to a sober Stefan.

They hadn't talked about _him_ other than when he told her he wanted them alone, together. He knew _the conversation_ was coming, but he would put it off for as long as he could.

Their avoidance of discussing his brother didn't last nearly as long as he would have liked.

"Lucy, I'm home," he called jokingly as he re-entered her house a few hours after he had left, dropping his bag and clothes by the door. "And you've got some 'splain-in' to do…" he quipped when she went to greet him.

"Really? For what…"

"'Cause," he said seriously. "Why aren't you naked?" he teased with an impressive arch of his eyebrows.

"Damon!"

"It's okay, I'll forgive you. But just this once," he playfully scolded. She didn't even have a chance to utter a response before he tossed her over his shoulder and ran her up the stairs, her giggling the whole way.

* * *

"So, how did it go?" she asked quietly while they were lounging in bed later that afternoon.

"How did what go?"

"Stefan…how's he doing?"

Damon just stared at her, silently begging her not to do this now. He wasn't ready to give her back yet, he wanted more time. He _needed_ more time. He hadn't really even gotten his chance yet to show her how much better he could love her, make her feel cherished and adored, than his brother ever had.

"I know you went to check on him…"

"Yeah, I did Elena; okay?" he snapped while getting out of bed and putting his clothes back on.

"What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"It looks like you're putting your guard up and I don't know why…" she said feeling confused, hurt, and suddenly very exposed as she was still in bed.

"Really; you don't know why?" He wouldn't even look at her as he pulled his shirt over his head, standing with his back to her.

"Damon…"

"No," he only replied as he left her room.

She found him a few minutes later when she descended the stairs, now clothed as well. He was sulking on the couch while nursing a glass of Bourbon; never a good sign. Neither said a word as she sat on the table he was resting his feet on.

"I don't want to talk about it Elena," he said a minute later.

"Damon, we have to talk about this."

"Fine; but we're not doing it in bed."

"Okay, I can understand that…" she compromised with as calm a voice as she could. She could tell he was already dangerously on edge and this conversation was going to be difficult and awkward at best, but she knew they couldn't skirt the situation any longer.

"Good."

"So…how's he doing?"

"Should have known," she heard him mumble to himself. "It really is always going to be Stefan, isn't it?" he said bitterly.

"Damon, stop. He's your brother and we have to talk about this. It's not healthy to just ignore it; it's just going to make it worse."

"Make it worse? Make _what _worse?"

"The tension; the fear. Do you really think that just talking about him is going to make me forget everything? What he did; and how I feel about you?"

"And what happens once he's clean and back to the same boring old Stefan you fell in love with first?"

"Then we'll be happy that he's better and hope he understands that things are different now."

"Are they?"

"You're impossible," she sighed, walking away.

He was in front of her before she had taken two steps. _Damn vampires…_

"I can't lose you," he whispered.

"You won't…but we can't pretend that he doesn't exist."

"I know."

But they did pretend he didn't exist, and it was easier than they thought it would be to do so. They didn't say his name, talk about what was going on in the house they had been driven out of, or what would happen when they returned to it. They both knew that day would be coming faster than either wanted it to.

They spent their nights, and sometimes most of their days, loving each other. While he had let her lead him their first time, and everything had been slow and beautiful, he now had the freedom to enjoy her as he wished and as much as he wanted; he took full advantage that she was now his to relish.

Elena had always enjoyed sex, but never like this. Neither she nor Matt had known what they were doing, and thinking back on it, it showed. Stefan had been different; he was more experienced and had worshipped her body, but he was always so careful with her and it was always the same. With Damon, it was like she was finally and suddenly awake from a deep sleep she hadn't known she had been in.

He showed her how to get lost in the feeling of them; how it felt to just let everything go as your soul soared above your body in pleasure and then slowly made its way back down to earth. Every insecurity she had and every hint of embarrassment he caught her give was immediately soothed by his encouraging and affectionate words, and soon she found she had never felt more safe and confident in sharing herself with another.

He never hurt her, but he wasn't always gentle with her either. He loved her fiercely and wasn't afraid to show it. Better yet, he consistently kept her guessing. Every time was different, special, unique, and she swore she would remember all of it, never ceasing to want more. She craved him with a hunger she had never known and was almost frightened at how quickly she had become addicted to his touch.

When they did leave her room and resorted to what should have been mundane daily tasks, she found that even doing something she normally detested became instantly fun and enjoyable; Damon just had this way of making everything fun.

She loved the way he insisted on playing music while they picked up the house so they could dance while they worked. He still did all the cooking, but had put in even more effort than he normally did and she couldn't decide if he was trying to impress her or just spoil her; maybe a little bit of both.

They playfully bickered over the remote, the shopping list, the laundry, and it usually ended with him "winning" by him taking her upstairs; she was more than okay with losing in this way because she was convinced that she was the one who had actually won.

And when they finally slept, he dreamed with her. She had been incredibly intrigued by the idea that in sleep she could still see and talk to him, and he could take her places that were (for now) beyond her reach or even to places that no longer existed.

He was a little apprehensive when she first asked him to enter her mind again; he wanted her to rest peacefully and knew that allowing your mind to be open to influence was dangerous, not that he would ever take advantage of her. When she told him she trusted him and wasn't worried he believed her; and he couldn't say no, not to Elena.

Their first journey was something deeply personal for him and he could tell by the emotions that flowed from her to him that she had been touched and in awe that he would share this with her.

After she had finally drifted off she found that she was standing in an open, grassy lawn. The trees that lined the area were tall and full, slightly swaying under the warm summer breeze. In front of her, a large, white, southern-plantation style home beckoned that reminded her of ones she had seen in old movies.

"Where are we?" she asked as he joined her, taking her hand in his.

"This is my home," he replied, nostalgia flooding his voice.

She realized she should have recognized the stone pillars on either side of the house even though all she had ever seen were the crumpled remains that Stefan had showed her. She couldn't help the sadness that took her when she thought about how hard it must be for him to have his home destroyed, the only thing left being a few scattered bricks and the memory of how it used to be.

"You okay?" he asked as she looked it all over.

She could only nod as she tried not to cry; she didn't want to ruin this with tears and Damon didn't seem sad to her, just excited at sharing this place that obviously meant so much to him. She took a breath to calm herself and they moved towards the house.

They strolled lazily as he showed her around the expansive property, pointing out all the places he had loved to hide and escape into. She had tried not to laugh at the tree where he had fallen from and broken his arm as a boy, and the other where he had learned to steal honey from the ever present hive. He had remembered every detail with perfect clarity and she didn't stop herself from marveling at how real it all felt.

He took her through the house slowly, providing an anecdote for every room; some had made her laugh, while others had made her want to cry. She found herself panicking when he related the story of how proud his father had been when he joined the Confederate Army, and how equally disappointed he was when Damon had decided to leave it.

"Have you fought in any other wars, Damon?" she asked, and was surprised how scared she was to hear the answer. He had obviously survived unscathed but she still couldn't stomach the idea of him being under attack and in incomprehensible danger.

"I've fought in many wars Elena," he smiled reassuringly.

"Tell me…"

"Well, I made it out of the Civil War fine, which was a damn near miracle if you ask me. I was young, a little over-confident, and I was still human…"

"So that's what got magnified when you became a vampire? Your confidence? That makes a lot of sense…" she lightly teased.

"Very funny…but true in part. _A lot_ of things got magnified," he replied, making her blush deeply.

"What about the others?"

"World War 1 was…bad. I was in Europe at the time but came back quickly to join. Two was rough, but that was when I learned to fly and I spent that one as a pilot."

"You can fly? Like…planes?"

"Mm-hmm; great eye sight, superb reflexes. Apart from the sunlight, vampires were almost made to fly… We'll go sometime, I promise."

"I'd like that," she smiled, realizing that there were probably thousands of little things like this about him that she didn't know yet, and she couldn't wait to discover them all.

"Vietnam was the last for me, for now anyways. We'll see what happens but I've served my country many times over and I hope that nothing else happens where I feel a need to go back to war. It's not really something I ever want to do again, especially now."

"Thank you," she said, surprising him.

"For what?"

"For fighting for the freedom that I have always known; for keeping me safe before I was even here."

"You're welcome," he replied reverently.

"Can we see your room?"

"Sure, whatever you want…"

It was funny to Elena how much this room reminded her of the one at the boarding house. He didn't have much in here, but she could tell the few things he did have were those that were important and only those. It didn't feel empty, just clean and uncluttered and undeniably Damon.

She realized at that moment how much she had begun to miss the house that now felt like home, and how much she yearned for the expansive bed in his room there. Her room was fine, but it was small and a little girl's room; being in his house had always made her feel like a woman and she couldn't wait to go back. She hoped it would be soon…

He watched her observe his things from the doorway, loving the way she took in every detail and lightly ran her fingers over his books. She felt everything with tenderness as though it would all turn to dust beneath her fingers if she wasn't careful, although nothing was in any danger here in their dream.

"There's one more thing I want to show you, then we'll go…"

"I don't want to go," she pouted.

"As much as I appreciate that, you're _already_ asleep and I do need _some_ rest to keep up with you," he smiled.

"Sorry," she said looking a little guilty. She had honestly forgotten that he was awake in her bed the whole time this was happening and her body was peacefully getting the rest they both needed. They were still having too much fun wearing each other out.

"Don't be; I'm happy to bring you here and we can always come back."

"Okay; so where are we going?"

"Just downstairs," he told her and she felt his nervousness at their next and final destination.

He led her outside to the back of the house and she suddenly realized why he was so apprehensive; a young woman with long black hair tied in an intricate bun had her hands buried in the dirt while she tended her garden.

She couldn't help gasp that escaped her at both her understanding and the wave of love and longing that flowed from him to her.

"That's my mother," he whispered.

She was speechless so she only nodded. Elena was enraptured at the way he had remembered how the sun fell on her porcelain skin and how her dark hair had begun to come loose from the strength of her efforts.

"She's beautiful," she couldn't help but observe and knew he agreed by the reverential smile he was giving his young mother.

Elena realized that she hadn't seen any other people the whole time they were there, and that it was Damon's choice who they saw.

"Where are you?" she asked and he seemed to understand.

Taking a deep breath, he turned her slightly and pointed. "There…"

She had never really thought about Damon as a boy before all of this, probably because he was forever frozen in his mid-twenties and had been for too long; but of course he would be young here in this memory.

Two young boys were rough-housing, and as she watched, the far younger one threw a punch that hit the black haired boy firmly in the jaw. After the elder recovered from the shock, he didn't hesitate to knock the younger down with a forceful shove, causing his brother to start to cry.

"Damon and Stefan Salvatore; come here," the woman was calling firmly; she had apparently witnessed the whole exchange.

"Yes Mother," they replied in unison before making their way towards her for their expected scolding.

"Stefan; we do not hurt people, especially those we love. I would like to you apologize to your brother."

"Sorry Damon," the younger mumbled.

"I'm sorry too, Stefan," the little Damon replied.

"Stefan, go wash up; it's almost time for supper," she said, dismissing him.

"Yes Mother," he conceded before doing as he was told.

She waited for Stefan to enter the house before turning to Damon saying, "Damon, I expect more of you…"

"But he hit me first!"

"I know; but he's your little brother and you need to be patient with him. He looks up to you and it's important that you set a good example for him."

"I'm sorry Mother; I'll try harder," he promised.

"I know you will, my sweet," she smiled. "Now, go wash up; I don't know how you can stand to be so filthy…"

"Yes Mother."

"And Damon," she called, as he began to walk away, "I love you."

"I love you, Mother," he smiled at her before disappearing in the house.

"Thank you Damon," Elena said softly, overwhelmed by the experience and the intensity of the emotions flowing between them. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Just a little tired…"

"Okay…"

"It's okay Elena, I promise. Now just close your eyes and let go; I'll see you in the morning…"

* * *

"Damon, you're cheating," Elena pouted.

"Can't cheat at puzzles," he said with a laugh.

"Well, leave it to you to find a way…"

"You love it," he teased.

"Not the point…"

She was caving and he knew it. They had agreed to spend the afternoon working on an old puzzle in the living room that she had set up at the coffee table; Elena had chosen to sit on the floor with Damon behind her, comfortably leaning forward on the couch with a leg on either side of her.

They were supposed to be taking turns but Elena had found herself trying, and failing, to complete it herself. Damon had not even tried to help, preferring instead to kiss her neck and shoulders while she fumbled the pieces distractedly.

She hadn't even heard it when her phone had started ringing. When she did finally become aware of its presence, Damon had snatched it away, refusing to give it back until she paid for it with a kiss.

"Hey Caroline!" She answered once she had it back in her possession; Damon had gone right back to kissing and lightly nipping at her with blunt teeth.

"Bye Caroline," he murmured against her skin, making it erupt in goose-bumps at the places where his breath washed against her.

"Caroline, you there?" She asked after friend had remained silent. She couldn't help but giggle when she felt her jeans become unbuttoned; Damon just snickered evil-ly, wondering how far he could undress her while she was on the phone before she either pushed him away or hung up. He was rooting for a hang up…

"Umm, yeah," her friend said, sounding upset.

"What's wrong Care?"

"Stefan wants to see you…"

Elena froze.

"Elena, did you hear me?"

"Yeah," was all she could reply. She realized Damon had stopped his advances and was now watching her carefully, too carefully.

"So…will you come see him? He really wants to talk to you, apologize…"

"I…" she stuttered; she honestly had no answer. She didn't really want to see Stefan, but she knew she would have to at some point. She suddenly felt an irrational amount of anger at Caroline for flooding her with more reality than she wanted; she hadn't wanted the dream she was letting herself live in end so soon.

"Elena, I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. He can't hurt you if that's what you're worried about; he's still in the cellar. But his humanity is back."

"What are you even doing there Caroline?" Elena asked more sharply than she knew she should have, more than what she knew was fair.

"I've been…helping him."

Elena was enraged. Caroline had been taking care of Stefan, who was currently locked in the cellar of the house, while Damon had been there with her? And from the slightly guilty look on his face he was trying to hide, she knew he had known all about it. There were no words…

"We'll be there in a bit; bye Caroline," Damon said into the phone he had stolen from Elena before quickly disconnecting the call.

"Calm down Elena," he said even though she hadn't spoken a word.

"You lied to me?!"

"Don't be over-dramatic; I didn't lie to you, I just didn't tell you. And you never asked…"

"That's crap and you know it!"

"Fine Elena; if that's how you want to feel about it…" he said far too calmly, walking away from her.

"Why is Caroline there?" She continued to yell as she followed him.

"Because; I couldn't do it, okay?" he snapped. "I wanted to _fucking kill him_ after what he did to you and I didn't trust myself _not_ to. Besides, she was more than fine with it."

"You should have told me," she growled.

"You didn't need to know; you didn't _want_ to know…"

"That's not fair; I asked you and you wouldn't tell me!"

"Excuse me for wanting you to myself for five-fucking-minutes!"

"Stop yelling at me;_ I_ didn't do anything wrong!"

"Just…get ready and we'll go. I'll take you back to him…"

"I never said I wanted to go!" she yelled furiously; that seemed to catch him off guard as he finally lowered his voice.

"You don't?"

"No; I want to stay here and yell at you for keeping things from me!"

"Elena…"

"No Damon; let's just go and get this over with," she said and made for the stairs.

"Elena, I'm…"

"Don't," she cut him off, slamming her bedroom door and locking him out.

* * *

**A/N: So, what did you think? As always, love to hear your thoughts, please r/r, and I will try to have to next chapter up asap. Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	9. What We Kept Hidden

**A/N: Holla! Y'all are amazing, srsly. And for that we have our second chapter of the day!**

**On your mark, get set, Go!**

* * *

"Hello Stefan," she said as she looked through the bars.

She was nervous at the sight of him, but knew she shouldn't worry as both Damon and Caroline were upstairs trying to give her some privacy, though she knew they could hear every word.

"Hi Elena, thank you for coming to see me…" he smiled at her sadly.

"Sure," she replied, tight lipped.

She was more than angry with him and felt undeniably betrayed by both him and the love he had professed to her time and time again. She still couldn't really believe that Stefan, of all people, had been the one to leave her behind without even saying good bye; then return after two months of silence and tried to kill her. It didn't help her attitude that she was also still pissed off at both Damon and Caroline for keeping secrets from her.

"I'm so sorry Elena," Stefan choked out.

"Is that supposed to make everything better?" she snapped at him.

"No, of course not; I just needed to tell you…" he said sincerely.

"Well, thanks for telling me," she said, turning to leave.

"Elena, please just talk to me for a minute. You don't know how much I've missed you…"

"How dare you!" She spat at him. "You don't get to tell me that, ever. You have _no idea_ what I went through when you left!"

"I know it must have been…hard."

"Hard?! Are you serious?"

"Look, it's not like I wanted to leave you; I _had_ to! And I couldn't risk calling you when Klaus thought you were dead!"

"I'm not interested in your excuses Stefan; it doesn't matter anymore…"

"How could it not matter? I'm home; I came back to you…and I love you Elena," he pleaded with her.

"Stop Stefan; just stop. I can't take this," she started to cry.

"Elena, honey…"

"No! I waited for you, I trusted you, I _loved_ you…but you hurt me in more ways than you will ever know and I won't let you do that to me again. Not ever."

"So, it's done then," he said quietly. "I've lost you…"

"Did you really expect any different after you tried to kill me?"

"No; but I had hope. And be honest Elena, from what I found when I got home it was clear you had already given up."

"Don't try to blame me for any of this; I didn't do anything wrong."

"Are you really going to look me in the eye and deny that you're in love with him?"

"No, and I never will again because _he_ deserves better than that."

"How could you do that to me?" he whimpered. "I left to save your life; his life!" Stefan yelled.

"You will not make me feel guilty for loving Damon, so don't even try!"

"You know," he said menacingly, "you're a lot more like Katherine than I ever gave you credit for. God help us if you ever turn; we don't need two of you walking the earth, ripping out people's hearts."

"Fuck you; you're the one who rips people apart with no remorse! And _if I do_ decide to turn for Damon, there will only be one person with my face who's actually alive!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked confused.

"Katherine's dead," she told him coldly.

"Don't lie to me Elena!" he growled at her, storming the door in rage.

She had screamed at his lunge, leaping back in fear against the wall; Damon was at her side in a second.

"Go upstairs Elena," he begged her gently.

"I'll fucking kill you!" Stefan bellowed through the bars.

"Back off Stefan!" Damon threatened.

"How could you let her die?!"

"Don't blame me for this Stefan, this was not my fault. She killed Klaus and she died."

"I don't understand…"

"Klaus came here looking for you and she followed. When he tried to kill me to get to Elena, Katherine ripped his heart out and…she died."

"You killed her," Stefan growled.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes you did Damon! She died to save you! Everyone always tries to save _you_ and _they're_ always the one who gets hurt!"

"Don't go there Stefan…" Damon warned, trying to stay calm.

"I should have let you die in 1864…she'd still be alive."

Damon had no words for his brother at this.

"Well, you finally got your wish," Stefan sneered at him. "'An eternity of misery', right brother? Well you did it; congratulations. You killed her; I hope you're satisfied."

* * *

"Are you okay?" he asked Elena once he came back upstairs.

She was sitting on the couch, shaking uncontrollably while Caroline tried to console her and wipe away her tears that were flowing steadily.

"I'm okay," she swallowed. "Damon?"

"What," he responded sharply, staying away from her.

"He's wrong; you can't listen to him."

"Don't Elena…"

"She's right," Caroline added quietly.

"Stay out of this Caroline or you can get the fuck out. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Damon, stop. Don't take this out on her," Elena pleaded.

"Just stop Elena."

"Damon," she ran to him, cupping his face so he was forced to look at her. "This isn't your fault; there was nothing you could have done."

"You're wrong," he shook his head, turning away from her.

"No Damon…"

"I said stop Elena!" he yelled, getting in her face. "He's right; this is my fault. I _should_ have died in 1864; then none of this would have happened…she'd still be alive!"

"How can you say that to me?"

"Because; it's the truth."

"So you would have rather died to save Katherine than lived to be with me?"

"Don't do that; don't twist this to make it about you."

"How can I not when you tell me you love me, but obviously still love her?" she asked heartbroken.

"Don't talk to me about her; about things you don't understand," he said, walking towards the door.

"Then help me understand…" she called after him.

"No," he muttered, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"God, I'm sorry; I'm so sorry," he cried. "It's my fault; he's right…"

He was given no words of comfort and he knew none would come; he hadn't expected any. The dead didn't talk back.

"I don't know what to do Katherine; everything is wrong," he confessed to her grave. "I never meant for you to die…

"I think Stefan's finally gone for good this time, and I don't know how to bring him back…he's my little brother and the only thing I couldn't ever save him from was himself…I don't know how to fix this…

"I fucked up good this time Katherine; I probably lost her now…she thinks I'm still in love with you and I don't blame her, that's what it would look like to her…

"But she doesn't understand; how could she? I did fucking love you!" he yelled. "I loved you for 145 years Katherine! But you _never_ loved me back and I know that now. I know now what it feels like to _be loved_ and I know, more than ever, that you _never_ did _no matter what you said…_

"I _hate_ you for what you did to me, what you're _still_ doing to me, and I hope you know that…you ruined my god damned life…

"And I know I made you a promise, and I'll keep it; but it's not for you…

"And what the fuck did you mean by 'our' family anyway? You, me, and Stefan are _not_ family Katherine, no matter how much you wanted us to be. You destroyed my family!

"But Stefan _is_ my family, and I will protect him. Elena is _your_ family, and I wanted her to be a part of _mine_, and I will _always_ protect her, even when she doesn't want me anymore.

"I hope you're burning in hell Katherine, but I hope over your screams you can still hear me…

"Whatever I do, it's not for you. It's for them…"

* * *

"Damon?" Jeremy called, finding him in the spot he knew he would.

Damon hadn't moved after his rant to Katherine's grave; taking out all his rage on the one person who couldn't fight back because he had been scared he would have taken it out on Elena. He had done enough to hurt her already.

He had stayed because he didn't know how to go back to her yet, even though he was back in control. _What could he say? How could he ever make this up to her, prove to her that he did love her more and that he was done with Katherine?_

"What do you want baby Gilbert, and how did you even find me?" he asked, standing up to face him.

"Are you okay man?" Jeremy asked once he saw Damon's face.

He must have looked as bad as he felt, and he didn't respond. He was absolutely _not _okay.

"Look, do you have a minute? I really need to talk to you."

"If you've come to yell at me about Elena, you can leave right now before you say something that'll hurt her even more by making me kill you."

"Chill out Damon!" Jeremy said, taking a step back from the vampire who had no sign of humor on his face. He checked to make sure he was still wearing his ring, just to be safe, and was relieved that it was right where it should be. As long as Damon didn't rip it off his finger first…

"What's wrong with Elena?" Jeremy asked confused.

"What do you want Jeremy?"

"I have a message for you, from Anna…"

"You have a…wait; what?"

"Umm, yeah. Like I said, I really need to talk to you."

"Fine; out with it."

"So, remember how Sherriff Forbes killed me and Bonnie brought me back to life with magic?"

"Vaguely…" he sneered sarcastically. Of course Damon remembered; how could he not? It was his fault Jeremy had been shot; Damon had moved out of the path of the bullet not realizing that it would hit him…

"Well, something happened…"

"I'm waiting."

"I started seeing ghosts."

"You started seeing ghosts…" Damon repeated skeptically.

"Yeah, I can see and talk to Anna."

"A., If Ric isn't giving you enough attention, this is not the way to cry about it; be a man and suck it up. B., if you _are_ seeing ghosts, then talk to Bonnie about it! She's the one who did the juju, not me."

"I can't talk to Bonnie, Damon! How do you think she'd feel knowing that she brought me back to life and I started seeing the ghost of my dead girlfriend?"

"Not really my problem Jeremy, and I fail to see what any of this has to do with me."

"I'm trying," Jeremy said to the space beside him while Damon just stared at him like he was insane. "Anna's here," he explained.

"You can _really_ see her ghost?"

"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you!"

"Watch it Gilbert," Damon warned. "You know what, if you can see ghosts then ask Katherine what happened when she died and what she meant. She'll know what I'm talking about."

"I can't see Katherine, Damon; only Anna."

"Lot of fucking help you are," he said, walking away.

"Evelyn! You're looking for Evelyn!" Jeremy yelled after him, making Damon stop in his tracks.

"What did you say?"

"Anna said if you want to know what Katherine meant, then to start with Evelyn…" he told him honestly. Turning to the empty space next time where Damon was now convinced Anna's ghost was, Jeremy asked, "Who's Evelyn?"

"She's my Mom…" Damon whispered.

* * *

"Oh God, Caroline," Elena cried; she hadn't stopped crying since Damon had walked out five minutes before.

"It's okay Elena, it's all going to be fine," she tried to soothe her, hugging her friend.

"How can you say that? Nothing is fine!"

"I know; shhh… I know…"

"Stefan hates me; and Damon…"

"I'm so sorry Elena."

"How could he just leave?"

"I don't know…"

"Please Caroline, just take me home. I can't be in this house anymore," she begged.

"Sure Elena, whatever you want."

Caroline drove her home as requested and stayed with her for an hour until she had calmed. She swore she was okay enough to be left alone as she sipped her tea; she really just wanted to be alone when Damon came back.

Three hours later, he still hadn't returned. _He was going to come back, right? Yes, he always came back…_

Much like the last time he had walked out on her because of Katherine, she made herself get up and ready the house for him. She washed their dishes, making sure his mug was ready for whatever he wanted to drink. It would probably by Bourbon over blood that night but it didn't matter and she didn't care; they had stocked plenty of both in her house.

She put away the puzzle she had been working on that afternoon. _How could a few hours turn everything that was perfect into a horrible nightmare? _It felt like it had been days since they had sat there, since Caroline had called. What she wouldn't give to go back to just that morning and stay there…

She was furious at Damon for walking out; she couldn't believe some of the things he had said to her. But, she loved him and she knew he was hurting. She just wished he wouldn't take it out on her…

They should be supporting each other when things like this happened, not using each other as an emotional punching bag because they knew they would be forgiven. That wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and most of all, it wasn't healthy for the relationship they were trying to sustain against all odds including, what felt like, the judgment of the world.

But she was determined that they would get through this somehow; they always survived. And as mad as she was, she swore she wouldn't fight with him tonight no matter what happened; he was hurting enough as it was.

She outright refused to listen to the voice in her head that was tormenting her with all of her worst fears. She shut it out as it told her that he wasn't coming back, that she would never see him again. She didn't listen as it told her that this was what she deserved for everything she had done to him in the past. But it took everything she had not to break when it told her that he loved, _was still in love with_, Katherine; and that she was only a replacement.

She wouldn't believe it; she _knew_ he loved her. She also knew that he _had_ loved Katherine, but she convinced herself that he was done with her just as much as she was done with Stefan. She found resolve as she tried to put herself in his position.

How would she feel if Stefan died to save her now? She'd be destroyed; the guilt would all but crush her. It didn't mean that she was in love with him anymore, just that she didn't wish him harm because of the love they had once shared.

And what if she was blamed harshly and directly for said death? She liked to think she wouldn't, but she knew she would probably lash out at everyone and anyone close to her. She had done it before; she knew first-hand how it felt to want to cause pain to others as the only method to distract yourself from the pain you were feeling from your own broken heart…

Damon had forgiven her when she had done it to him, and he had apologized_ to her_ for not being strong enough to carry all her pain _for her_. What kind of man does that if he doesn't love you?

So that's what she would do; she would choose to look past everything else and try to see it for what it was. He was in hurting from what his brother had accused him of; that was all. And she didn't know if she was strong enough to carry it all for him, but she would try with everything she had. That's what you did when you loved someone.

And she did love him.

The last week had been positively the best week of her life, and it was all because of Damon. She hadn't wanted it to end and she was determined that after they worked through this fight that they would go right back to how they had been before.

She had been surprised at her own words when she was fighting with Stefan; they had flowed from her almost of their own accord. She didn't care to think about how much they had probably hurt him, only to wonder what Damon's reaction had been upstairs where she hadn't been able to see him. But she knew he would have heard her; she _would_ consider turning for him.

She had never wanted that life, and she had been perfectly clear about that with Stefan. And Damon was painfully well aware of her feelings on the matter as he had been the one who had almost turned her, twice.

The second time had been worse; she had really believed she would wake up a vampire after the ritual and hadn't understood what happened when she did wake. But Damon had been with her and explained everything; how John had traded his life for hers so she could remain human.

He didn't tell that at that point that he had gotten bit by Tyler in the process of trying to delay everything. He had tried to take it back, make it better, but everything had just imploded from there.

What he did tell her was that he didn't understand why she didn't blame him for John's death. He told her it was his fault; he had given her his blood and now her father had died to save her from becoming the vampire he had almost turned her into. But she assured him that it was her father's choice to die because of his prejudices, and that was nobody's fault but his own. They didn't speak of it again.

But she couldn't deny the last week had changed things, and she _would_ consider turning if she could be with him forever.

The life she had thought she wanted, complete with children and a marriage, was still technically a possibility as long as she stayed human; she couldn't have that with Damon but she could still have it if she wanted. But she knew she would never bring a child into this world and surround them with the death and destruction that had taken hold of her life. She had made peace with that; it had been difficult, it had hurt terribly, but less than what she thought it would.

As for marriage, who said vampires couldn't marry? It seemed ridiculous and horribly…_Twilight_ to bend to a human convention when an eternity was at stake; but somewhere in her heart she knew Damon wouldn't feel that way, no matter what he said.

She knew he already wanted her forever, he had proved that more than once; but he would _never_ ask her to turn. Not after everything that had happened, and all that he had heard her say on the subject.

And they would have to talk about it one day in a few years, if they even made it that far. Not that she doubted them, but there relationship was…explosive. First, he had to _come home._

She had mulled all this over while continuing to work on the house, her anger dissipating more every minute and being replaced with worry. _Where was he?_

She was pulling a fresh load of laundry from the dryer when it happened. She had reached in to grab the last article of clothing she had missed and when she retrieved it, it had immediately caught her eye.

It lay in the dryer, laughing at her; telling her she was stupid to think she was better, that he loved her more. It told her what she already knew; that she was a replacement.

She picked up Katherine's bracelet to make sure it was _hers_ and not one of her own that had somehow magically made its way into their clothes. But she had known who it belonged to as soon as she had seen it; it wasn't the first time this bracelet had found her.

And he had continued to carry it with him… He had brought it into _her_ house….

"Fuck him; I'm done," she said as she slammed shut the dryer.

* * *

**A/N: Big chapter. Lots of angst in there... Just to give you guys an idea we are about halfway through and I still have more twists up my sleeve *evil laugh*. Sometimes chapters get combined, some get split, and some pop up out of nowhere that were never planned. As usual, I blame Damon (grrr). But thank you all SOOOOOO much for the continued support and following, please continue to hang in there with me as we get try to get Delena through this hell hole I have happily created for them.**

**As always, please r/r, always love to hear your thoughts. Every time my phone goes off with an email alert I can't check it fast enough. Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	10. One Smile At A Time

**A/N: Not going to delay. Have at it ;)**

**-Enjoy**

* * *

A man sat crying beside his wife. She was still and had been for at least an hour now. It had only taken three days since the fever had hit her, and now she was gone.

The doctors didn't have an answer for him; they said sometimes these things just happened. But this was his wife, a woman who hadn't been sick a day in their thirty year marriage; and here she was, dead.

"Is there someone you want to call? Any family you need to notify?" the nurse asked, entering the room.

"No," he sniffed, "she didn't have any other family, other than me. The rest are gone already…"

"Okay," she conceded gently. "I'll leave you a minute to say goodbye, and then we need to move her, okay? Take all the time you need…"

* * *

"I know you're in there; you can't hide from me forever. Just please open the door Elena…"

She had made sure to lock every window and secure every bolt on the door. There was _no way_ he was getting in that house unless he went down the chimney like he was fucking Santa Claus. But she didn't put anything past him, so she had built a fire just to be safe. _Screw him._

He had eventually shown up about an hour after she had found the bracelet, but that had given her plenty of time to lock him out. She had sat at the table and listened smugly as he had tried to find a way in. He didn't have a key to the front door and must have been confused when he first found it locked; he had tried it twice before she heard him tapping against her bedroom window. Then her phone had started ringing.

Six missed calls and she still wasn't answering. She knew that he was well aware that she _was_ in the house, because he could probably hear her damn heartbeat. But she _wasn't_ going to acknowledge him.

"Elena, I will break down this god-damned door if I have to!"

He was getting mad. _Good. _The man obviously couldn't take a hint so she would shove one down his fucking throat if she had to.

She seriously considered shooting him through the mail slot with one of the projectile stakes she had retrieved from the hall closet, and which was now resting next to her drink on the table, but she didn't. Instead, she threw the bracelet through it and went back to her seat, waiting for him to leave.

The crash came from somewhere above her, and she had barely enough time to get the crossbow off as he blurred down the stairs. It missed him by a good three feet, lodging itself in the wall next to him and breaking a picture that had hung where it had landed; but it had done its job.

He had halted immediately at the bottom of the stairwell looking shocked when he stopped to gawk at the stake that had he had narrowly avoided; he was apparently completely dumbfounded that she had actually shot at him.

The next thing she could register was the feeling of the crossbow being ripped from her hands and the sound it made as it crashed and slid across the floor somewhere in the living room.

"Are you insane?! You could have killed me!" he screamed at her, well past enraged.

"Get out of my house!" she bellowed back at him.

"So that's where we're at? You're not even going to hit me anymore? Now you're going to fucking _stake_ me?!"

"I said get out!"

"No! Do you even realize what you just did?"

"I don't care!" she yelled, stomping away from him. "I can't believe you broke my window…"

He had a hold of her before she could take another step. "You gave me no choice; I warned you. And you tried to kill me!"

"I didn't try to kill you," she sneered at him.

"Could have fucking fooled me…"

"I was trying to send a message!"

"And what message is that, Elena? 'Dear Damon, I hope you die!'"

She pulled away from him and continued to make her way up the stairs as she yelled, "To stay the hell out of my house!"

"You crossed the line Elena…" he said as he followed her up.

"No, you crossed the line!" she screamed, turning on him. Beginning to finally cry, she whispered, "How could you do this?"

His anger fading as he watched her crumble, he quietly said, "It's not what you think Elena…"

He didn't know who was hurting more at that moment; her, from her feeling of betrayal, or him from knowing he had broken her heart with his careless act. He hated knowing that he had caused the look of pain and desperation on her face.

"You know what, I don't care," she yelled again as she slammed her bedroom door in his face and locked it.

She ran to the door that connected her and Jeremy's room to their common bathroom, somehow managing to lock it before he got there. She then retreated to her bed, curling up and sobbing under the weight of the fight. Rolling over away from the door, away from where she knew he was standing just feet away from her, she realized it wasn't her window that was broken. She would deal with it later…

"Elena," he said softly from the other side of the door, "please let me in."

"Go away."

"I've already broken Jeremy's window, and I don't want to break your door but I will if I have to…"

"You wouldn't dare…"

She heard her door resist and then pop; and when she turned to look at it to confirm he had done as threatened, he was already sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands firmly in his grasp.

"What are you doing? Let go of me!" she yelled as she struggled against him.

He let her go immediately, explaining, "I had to make sure you weren't holding another weapon Elena."

"You broke my door!" She screamed, completely irrational as she sat up to stare him down.

"I'll fix it tomorrow, I promise…" he said quietly.

"What part of 'leave' do you not understand?"

"All of it…"

"I'm serious Damon; I'll change the deed on the house if I have to!"

"That's not funny," he told her seriously. "And you can't change it tonight anyways, so I'm not leaving until we talk about this."

He had tried to lightly lay his hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away from him like he burned her, rolling back over to her side with her back to him.

"Damn it Elena, look at me!"

"No."

"Elena…this is ridiculous."

"I don't care. Go away."

"Why won't you look at me?"

"Why should I?" She yelled again, sitting up to glare at him like he wanted. "I don't want to see you!"

He looked at her with confusion for a second, studying her carefully and leaning his head forward the slightest little bit.

"What?!"

"Did you drink vervain?"

"Damn straight I did! There's no way you're compelling your way out of this…fail you already?" She spat at him.

"I can smell it Elena," he explained, still maddeningly calm despite the fact that she was hysterical. "How much did you take?"

"More than enough."

"Glad to see you trust me..."

"You lost my trust when I found Katherine's bracelet in the laundry!"

"Will you please stop screaming at me so I can try to explain this?"

"I'm not interested in your explanations!"

"You know what; have it your way. I'll be downstairs when you're ready to talk about this like an adult," he said and left the room.

He had just taken his first step down the stairs when he heard her say it…

"It's always going to be Katherine…" she whimpered.

_Fuck._ He was back at her side in a second; kneeling in front of her as she was still lying on her bed.

"Elena, no…"

"It is, just admit it. For you, for Stefan; she will always come first." She had finally stopped yelling, but had traded volume for tears.

"No, not for me; not anymore…" he said as he caressed her hair; he was so thankful that she didn't pull away from him this time.

"Why does everyone love her more?" she sobbed. "Is it the hair; do you want me to change my clothes? What is it that you want Damon?"

"Sweetheart, I want _you_. Your hair and your clothes don't matter..."

"Do you want me to be a bitch and to seduce you and try to make you jealous? Is that what it is?"

"No Elena, of course not…"

"Then what is it? Why do you still love her more than me?"

"I don't! I'm done with her, _have been_ done with her. I promise; I _only_ want you…"

"That's bullshit," she said angrily, rolling over on her other side away from him. "I'm just some sick substitute, some kind of replacement for you and Stefan," she mumbled.

"Elena, look at me," he said seriously. He had moved quickly to sit on the side of the bed she was now facing so she couldn't avoid him anymore. "You are _not_ Katherine; and believe me, I know that. That is one of the many reasons _why_ I love you…"

"Then what is it doing here?!" She yelled at him.

"I'm sorry…"

"You're sorry?" She asked fiercely, sitting up again.

"More sorry than you'll ever know…"

"You know what," she said sharply, "I'm sorry too; for thinking I could deal with this… I can't handle looking at you and wondering who you're seeing when you look at me. I won't do it again; once was enough."

"Elena, please don't do this…" he pleaded with her.

"Then why did you have it?"

Damon just stared at her.

"You need to go. I don't want you here."

The finality in her voice terrified him.

"I made her a promise," he conceded. "I told her I'd protect our family…"

"What do you mean 'our' family?"

"I don't know; that's just what she said. She said 'promise me you'll protect our family' so I said I would."

"And you have no idea what she meant?" she asked, completely skeptical.

"No; I mean she was always twisted about the three of us, but she never referred to us as family before," he told her honestly, praying she believed him.

Elena didn't respond, continuing to glare at him.

"But, the way I see it, you're her family and Stefan's mine, and I'll always do everything I can to protect you both. So, it doesn't mean anything…"

"Why did you have her bracelet, Damon?"

"To remind me…not to kill Stefan."

"You needed a bracelet to remind you of that?" She said sarcastically, clearly not believing a thing he said.

He didn't say a word.

"Go ahead Damon, keep lying. See where that gets you…"

"Okay, you're right; that's not why I had it…"

"You can tell me the truth right now or you can leave."

Beginning with a heavy sigh, like telling her this literally caused him pain, he began, "I brought it with me, so I would remember… So I would never forget that at any moment I could lose you, and to not take a single second of this for granted….because one day, you'd go back to him; you'd choose him again. Everyone always does, always has…

"But this was my mistake," he continued with conviction, "I should have trusted you; and after we talked about Stefan and I knew you weren't going to run, I actually _forgot_ I even had it here…

"And I'm so sorry Elena," he said with total sincerity, "I never meant for you to find it like that…and, I know I shouldn't have had it in the first place…

"I know I don't deserve your forgiveness for making you feel any less than what you are to me, for making you question my love for you; but I need your forgiveness Elena. I really need it."

She was quiet for a minute while she weighed his words, and she didn't know what he was thinking about at that moment, but it was clear from his face that he had finally been honest with her about this. She also knew he was dying for an answer to his plea; this wasn't the first time he had said those words to her.

Trying to redirect her fury she said loudly, "I swear to God, if she wasn't already dead I would kill her myself. She's still messing with your head, and she's not even here!"

He couldn't help but muster a small, sad smile at the familiar words; and he knew that by her anger towards Katherine on his behalf that he hadn't lost her, not yet.

"What could possibly be funny?"

"It's just…when I left today; I went to her grave and yelled at her for the exact same thing."

"You yelled at her grave?" She had stopped crying somewhere between his explanation and her renewed rage at Katherine and was now wiping at her face.

"Yeah, pretty much. I told her I hated her for destroying my family, for warping me, and mostly for hurting you. And I told her I hoped she was burning in hell."

"I hope she heard you."

"I think she might have…"

Elena stared at him like he was crazy.

"I'll explain later, I promise." When she rolled her eyes at him he added, "I'm not going to hide or keep anything from you ever again. No matter how much I don't want to tell you, or think I'm protecting you, I know it's not worth hurting you over."

"I appreciate that."

"I'm so sorry Elena."

"Damon," she sighed exasperated, "you have to _trust_ me… I will always choose you. And _I know_ I made mistakes in the past and I'm paying for those, but have I given you any reason to doubt me since things have changed?"

"No, you haven't. But you're going up against 150 years' worth of mind games Elena; I'm going to need you to be a little patient with me. I'm not used to this…to be being the one that gets chosen."

"Then I'll remind you. Every day," she said with determination, "even when you don't need me to remind you anymore; okay?"

He nodded. "Elena," he said nervously, "I need you to tell me we're going to be okay…that I haven't messed this up…"

She couldn't believe he was asking her that; had she really made him think that they were over? He was always the one that was so sure about them, had always been so convinced. How were their roles suddenly reversed; and him suddenly the one who was worried? The fight was bad, but all their fights were bad; that was just their nature. But she had scared him; he had thought he had lost her over this.

"Of course Damon; we're going to be fine," she smiled at him reassuringly.

After a minute he asked quietly "Did you mean what you said today?"

"When? A lot of things have been said today…"

"You told him…'if you turn for me'…"

"Yes, I meant that. But do you really want to talk about this now?"

She was exhausted; fighting with Stefan, Damon walking out, then finding the bracelet, and now this fight, and all the time she had spent crying that day… she was sure she was going to collapse any second from the emotional drain from it all. And she didn't want to argue with him about this now; she didn't have the energy and she couldn't stand another battle. She didn't have the strength left it would take to win that one; she was tapped.

"We may as well while we're being honest," he smiled at her. "Elena, you know I don't expect that, and I would never ask you to do that, don't you?"

"I do…but it doesn't mean that I can't decide that's what _I want._"

"Is that what you want?"

She couldn't deny how nervous he looked as he asked her; and it was not the nervous-excited way she had thought it would be when they finally talked about this. He looked afraid.

"I'm…considering it," she said. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, but more than anything she wanted to be honest. "I thought you'd be happy?"

"Elena, I want you with me forever, and I want you to have everything you want. But…as hard as it is for me to say, there are some things I _can't_ give you. And…I don't necessarily want this life for you."

"Damon, let me make something perfectly clear. I will never be a mother whether I stay human or not. And, I'm sorry, but that has nothing to do with you. It's just too dangerous. I'm the doppelganger and there is always going to be someone coming after me for something; I know it."

"You don't know that," he said gently, incredibly saddened and conflicted by her decision to knowingly forgo having children.

He had always known that she would make the most wonderful mother, and that any child would be undeniably lucky to have her for his or her mom. He had never wanted to be a father, not after everything his own father had been to him.

But he wanted to give her the world and would do anything to get it for her; it killed him that there was undeniably something that he would _neve_r be able to give her, no matter what he did. It hurt even more when he realized that as much as he didn't want to lose her, he knew he would let her go if that's what it took to make her happy.

"I do know that Damon; and it's all right. I've said good bye to that dream, but I'm not ready to give up on others; not yet at least. But no one is making any decisions tonight; we have lots of time to fight about this," she smiled softly at him.

"All right," he said with a breath and moved on to the next thing he needed to talk to her about. "Speaking of fighting, I need you to promise me something. I'm going to say this as carefully as I can, and I'm not trying to hurt you, but I need you to listen to me."

"Okay…"

"Do not _ever_ shoot a stake at me again. I mean it Elena.I know you were angry and you weren't trying to actually kill me, but you could have. And some things…some things you can't take back."

"I'm sorry Damon…"

"It's all right, but just this once. I love you, and I need you to try to remember that, even when you hate me."

"I'll try," she promised.

"Thank you." Unable to resist, he asked, "I have to know: did you really build a fire downstairs?"

"Umm, yeah…"

"Why?"

"You're going to laugh at me," she blushed.

"Now I'm really curious."

"I didn't want you to come in through the chimney."

"You're not serious…"

"Don't laugh!" She said, even though she was the one now lightly chuckling.

She couldn't believe she was laughing; twenty minutes ago she had shot at him and tried to kick him out of the house. Their relationship was insane.

"I'm going to have to remember that the next time you try to lock me out," he smiled with her.

"You owe me a window," she scowled at him, though they both knew that she was just teasing.

It had felt a little uncomfortable to try to joke with him now; the tension from everything hadn't left. All their words and hateful actions were still hanging in the air above them, pressing down on them with a crushing weight and deafening them with silent echoes. But she knew the only way to get through this was to try to focus on the little, lighter things; everything else was just too heavy to take on all at once.

"I know," he said, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

She leaned in to his touch and he could finally breathe again. The whole time they had been talking they had been separated by the largest six inch gap he had ever known, and it had been nearly impossible not to reach out for her, even just to take her hand. But he had resisted; she had needed her space, and they hadn't touched each other once, not until know.

"Will you come downstairs with me?"

"Why?"

"There's something we need to do."

She followed him downstairs as he had asked and stood with him hand in hand, finding comfort in their solidarity in front of the fire. She watched him as he pulled Katherine's bracelet from his pocket, and after showing it to her, flung it into the fire. They both watched as it twisted and disappeared into the flames, and it felt like they had both finally let her go; like they were promising they wouldn't let her hurt them again.

"I love you Elena," he said, turning to her.

"I love you too, Damon," she said as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Damn it!" He hissed as soon as their lips touched.

"What?"

"Vervain…"

"Oh God, Damon I'm sorry," she couldn't help but giggle as she ran her fingers over his burned and healing lips, "I forgot."

"It's fine," he smiled at her, acting slightly annoyed, though they both knew he didn't care. He'd kiss her again in a second, even if it singed his entire mouth off in the process. "Are there any other booby traps I should know about?"

He was breathing easier every minute; they were finding their way. He hadn't been sure in the room; it was all too fresh and raw in there. But in front of the fire where they had both turned their back on the woman who was still threatening to destroy them, it had felt like a weight had been lifted. He knew that if they could just get through the night without actually killing each other, everything would be better in the morning. She was smiling, she was laughing, and she was still there, with him.

"You might want to kick the Bourbon for a bit, or at least get a new bottle," she said with a guilty grin.

"You didn't…"

"You pissed me off!"

"I swear…do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?" He played along with her; he didn't give a crap about the Bourbon, only in trying to get them through this horrible day and even worse night. _One smile at a time…_

"Since when do you care? I've seen you go through a bottle a day before, easy."

"So not the point! At least those I drank; you just wasted that one and I just opened it…"

"Stop pouting; at least I warned you."

"Only because I asked; would you have even told me? Or were you counting the minutes 'til I poured a glass?" he smiled, curious and mildly impressed by her attempts to sabotage his drinking.

"I'll let you know when I decide."

"Elena!"

"What? Hell hath no fury…"

"You're not kidding; well, I'm sorry for scorning you," he said, happily wrapping her in his arms where he knew she belonged. She had always fit there, even before she was his.

"Yeah, well, you love my wrath; don't think I haven't noticed," she smirked up at him.

"Not even going to deny it," he smiled. "I am sorry though…"

"No more apologies," she said and kissed him again.

"Ow, damn it!"

"Oops," she giggled.

"Upstairs. Bathroom and mouth wash. Now."

* * *

**A/N: So, this chapter proved a little more difficult to write than I initially thought it would; I just couldn't get the pacing to feel right. Hope it sits well with you guys, love to hear your thoughts on "ze battle". **

**As an insight, in my mind Elena is every bit the 18 years young she is supposed to be. She is, more often than not, irrational, overly hormonal, completely ruled by her emotions (especially her anger), in short just all out CRAY CRAY. And I love writing her like that; it makes me miss the days when I could throw things and scream because I was _almost_ young enough to get away with it. **

**As always, your endless support never ceases to blow me away. Please r/r, can't wait to hear what you think!**

**-Goldnox**


	11. The Strongest Bond

**A/N: Absolutely amazing, I'm talking about you my faithful readers. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"It's too early to wake up," he mumbled when he felt her shift.

She had slept soundly through the night, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. He hadn't been able to dream with her because of the vervain she had ingested, but he had wanted her to get her rest anyways; she had looked exhausted.

"Then you keep sleeping. I'm getting up," she whispered, rolling over to give him a small kiss.

"Nope; you're not allowed to leave," he said, snuggling her closer and locking her to him.

She was quiet for a minute before she said, "I wish we could go home…"

"Hmm, we are home," he said sleepily.

"You know what I mean."

"I know; but we should still stay here for a while."

"Fine…"

"Too early for pouting…" he grumbled.

"I'm not pouting, I just miss the house."

"I know; I miss it too. Now go back to sleep," he whispered, still not opening his eyes.

"No, I want coffee."

"Elena," he whined.

"Stay; I'll make it."

"Fine, I'm up," he said, though he still made no movement to leave.

"Is my coffee really that bad that the mere thought of it is enough to get you out of bed?" she laughed quietly.

He didn't answer.

"Fine, you get five more minutes before I make it myself and make you drink it all."

"Deal."

When she finally got him out of the bed and into the kitchen she was beyond relieved how easily they stepped back into the routine they had fallen into in the days prior. Everything was exactly the same, apart from a shattered window, the lock on her bedroom door being broken, and a hole in the wall from where she had shot at him. He was currently on the phone arranging someone to come and repair the damage while he poured them the coffee which he had insisted on making.

"They'll be here in an hour," he said as he sat down at the table with a yawn, handing her a steaming mug of the black liquid.

"Since when are you so tired?" She asked as he brushed the hair out of his eyes; he was in desperate need of a haircut.

"Didn't sleep much…" he yawned again, always comforted by the way it felt with her fingers combing through his hair.

"How come?"

"Because there's something we need to talk about that we didn't get to last night, and I don't want to worry you but I promised I wouldn't keep anything from you."

"Why do I have the feeling that I don't even want to know?"

"If you don't want me to tell you, I won't," he replied, drinking deeply from his cup.

"Can't we just have one day of normalcy?"

"Probably not," he laughed.

"Do I _have_ to know right now, or can it wait?"

"It can wait," he smiled, "but I should probably tell you that it _kind of_ involves Jeremy; I don't know if that makes a difference."

"What do you mean 'it kind of involves Jeremy'? Is he okay?"

"He's fine; he's just a little more…special now," he smirked.

"No…" she groaned, hiding her head in her arms as she crossed them on the table. "Just tell me and get it over with."

"When Bonnie brought him back to life she jumbled her voo-doo and now he's seeing ghosts."

"What?!" She exclaimed, sitting up immediately.

"I know; leave it to Bonnie to _always_ mess up her magic."

"Damon!"

"What? It's not like this is the first time there have been problems…"

"So, he's seeing ghosts?" She clarified, trying to make sense of the latest supernatural phenomenon that had invaded her life.

"Well, one in particular…do you remember Anna?"

"You mean the bitch that kidnapped me and used me for leverage? No, not a bit…"

"Easy tiger," he smiled at her.

"What does she want with Jeremy?"

"You know they dated; I think she must have been in love with him."

"How do you even know _any_ of this?" she asked suspiciously.

"He came to see me yesterday, when I was out."

"He came to see _you_?"

"Gee, thanks Elena."

"What? It's not like you two have ever been…friends…"

"Believe me; I was just as surprised as you are. But in getting to the point, he said that if I wanted to find out what Katherine meant about the family thing…that I had to start with my mom."

"I…what does that mean?"

"I don't know Elena, but I'm going to find out."

"What do we need to do?"

"_We_ don't need to do anything. I'll take care of this; I don't want you worrying your pretty little head about it."

"Damon…"

"I promise I'll tell you whatever I find out, I just don't want you having to deal with any more crap like this right now."

"We're supposed to be a team Damon," she said sincerely, taking his hand. "I want to help you."

"We are a team Elena, and I appreciate that you want to help, but I got this. Trust me, okay?"

"All right, I trust you."

"Thank you. Now come on, the repair guys are going to be here in a little bit," he said as he got up to leave the table.

"I still can't believe you broke the window," she teased him as they walked towards the stairs.

"Baby, I'd tear the whole house down to get to you if I had to."

"You'd just have to get me a new one," she said, and turning around to face him added, "And even _your_ pockets aren't that deep."

"Aren't they?" He asked too seductively for their conversation, stepping in closer to her so she was forced back against the wall.

"Never mind, I don't want to know."

"Just go get dressed," he laughed. Grabbing her arm and pulling her back to him as soon as she moved, he growled, "On second thought…"

"Damon!"

"What?"

"You're incorrigible…"

"As long as you know it," he said before kissing her. "They won't even be here for _at least_ another thirty minutes…"

"You've never done anything in thirty minutes in your life."

"I'll take that as a challenge…"

* * *

He doubted if he had even been more thankful for anything in his entire life. After replacing the broken window and sealing the whole in the wall, they had put their fight completely behind them and not looked back.

He had spent the rest of the day loving her and making sure she _felt _loved, whispering it directly into her skin to permanently seal it there as he moved over every inch of her. They had forgiven each other and promised not to apologize anymore, but he had still wanted to make it up to her. He desperately wanted to make her forget everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, and as far as he could tell, was doing a fairly damn good job of it so far.

It never ceased to amaze him how well they fit together, but he had always suspected they would; she was his destiny, he knew it. He had spent so much time in the past being angry over his existence as a vampire, his lost future, his curse; but now he was incredibly grateful that fate had known that he had needed to have a longer than average lifespan. He had been born in the wrong time, because she hadn't been there yet.

He had needed to wait for her, before he even knew what he was waiting for. Even when he had found her, he had _still_ needed to wait. He had never thought of himself as particularly patient, but he knew with absolute certainty that he would wait another 150 years for Elena if he had to; but thank God that wasn't necessary.

She drove him crazy in the best possible way, and he couldn't describe the feeling it gave him when he heard her say his name; not when she was calling to him, but _because_ of him. She would moan it, scream it, and he would do everything in his power to continually drive it from her lips; the very lips that he was now allowed to kiss and to taste, the lips that ignited him every time she placed them on his skin.

He had been with a lot of women in his time; one hundred plus years of an endless parade had taught him more than he thought was probably fair in how to enjoy the fairer sex. Poor Elena had never stood a chance against him, and how he knew how he could make her feel.

The girl had obviously been painfully neglected; how had anyone let that happen? But he wouldn't; he swore he would show her what it really meant to feel unfiltered ecstasy.

She had been timid at first; that had been his first clue. He immediately hated all of the _boys_ she had previously been with, those that had made her so unsure and unaware of herself, because _he knew_ that she was dangerously sexy, powerful, and had everything she would ever need to bring any man to his knees and make him beg. Hell, _he_ would beg; but she honestly didn't seem to know, at least at first, that she even had this authority over him.

He wanted her to find herself, her confidence, all that had all been buried under the years of shyness and shame that her upbringing had bestowed upon her. He vowed he would help her to find the woman she was growing into, and he was unreservedly thankful that he was the one that got to share in this journey of discovery with her. He knew who she was, she just wasn't sure yet; but she was getting there, quickly.

He was exceedingly careful with her; he knew he needed to be gentle about this. Embarrassment was a treacherous, powerful, and fickle emotion; he knew that if he pushed her too far, too fast, that she could shut down. But she was brave, and he was proud of her. He loved and felt humbled that she trusted him enough to teach her, and she was nothing short of amazing.

Soon he was more than a little worried that he was creating some sort of sexual monster that could destroy him if she wanted. She was absorbing everything swiftly and expertly under his tutelage, and before long it was almost hard for him to keep up with her; _almost._

He had made sure to continually tell her how fantastic she was, how good she felt and made him feel. He always meant every word, even though at first he had made an extra effort for her to try to help her with her confidence. But he soon forgot about any of his reasons and was unconsciously honest in his shameless awe of her.

In all of his encounters, and even with her initial inexperience, no one had ever made him feel like she had; pulling moans from him that he had never heard himself make before. He couldn't believe the power she had over him, it was almost terrifying to be at her complete mercy; but he couldn't deny he cherished every second of his surrender to her.

She surprised him, she consumed him. He could get lost in her for hours, for days, forever if she would let him. He would never get enough of her.

She had somehow found her way into not only his heart, but into his soul, and she had latched on violently. She had unearthed a part of him that he hadn't known existed, because it hadn't; not before she was in his life.

"How are you even awake?" she giggled as he continued placing delicate kisses across her skin.

"How am I supposed to sleep when you're here, ripe for the taking?" he mumbled into her stomach.

It was 3 A.M. and he should have been exhausted and completely spent after possessing her all day, but he couldn't bring himself to deny his lust for her. Thank the devil for vampire stamina.

They had barely left her room for anything in the four days since their forgotten blow up; minus the occasional hurried intake of sustenance and their daily bath together. They had so easily slipped back into the dream that had become their life, and he was never more appreciative that he had an eternity to love her.

"One of these days I'm just going to drop from exhaustion and so are you," she smiled.

"But not tonight…"

"It's not fair you know; I don't have super human strength…"

"Then lie still," he breathed against her hip.

"Damon?"

"Hmmm…"

"There's something I want to try…"

"Your wish, my command…"

"Okay…"

He could tell by the uptick in her heartbeat that she was suddenly nervous; deeply curious, he crawled up the bed to lie beside her, though he couldn't resist touching her.

"You don't have to be nervous Elena, you can tell me…"

"All right," she blushed.

She didn't say anything for a minute, effectively driving him insane.

"The suspense is killing me."

"Sorry."

"Sweetheart, what is it?"

"I'm just not sure how you're going to feel about this…"

"Whatever this is, it's fine. There's nothing I would ever deny you, but I can't give you what you want if you don't tell me…" he said as he began kissing her again.

"Okay; I want you…to drink from me."

She waited for his reaction, but he just looked surprised when he paused in his actions, meeting her gaze. Whatever he had been expecting her to say, it clearly wasn't that.

"It's just; I know that it's something really intense for you, and I want to give you everything too. But not only that…I want it to be _my_ blood that makes you strong, that keeps you alive."

"Elena…"

"I trust you Damon."

"I appreciate that; and you're right, blood sharing is very intense, and would be for both of us. But it's dangerous Elena."

"I know that, but I also know you would never hurt me."

"It's not just that…It creates a bond, a pull, on a super natural level. I don't want you to worry or second guess that the way we feel is ever being manipulated."

"Oh…"

"I just want to be honest with you; I promised you I would be. And believe me, it's not that I don't want to, because _I do_; but you should know what you're asking for."

"I understand," she smiled.

"You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because, I want you to know you can ask me for these things, and I don't want you to ever feel embarrassed or rejected."

"I don't feel either of those, but I appreciate the concern."

"I'm glad," he said, kissing her again and picking up right where they had left off before her request.

Not that much later when he was sitting up, leaning against her headboard with her legs wrapped around him, slowly delighting in the small corner where her collarbone met her shoulder, he heard her say it…

"Now Damon; I want you to do it now," she whispered with necessity.

"But Elena, I thought…" he asked, stopping to look at her, confused.

"You didn't ask…" she smiled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes Damon, I want you to drink from me; please…" she begged, kissing him deeply.

"The second it hurts, I need you to tell me. Promise me."

"I promise," she breathed against him as she moved down his jaw.

He gently moved her hands from where they were buried in his hair, pulling them down to place them on his chest. From the seemingly innocent movement, her shoulders relaxed and her throat was more fully revealed to him. Once he had her settled there, he delicately brushed her hair back, pulling it to the side so the vein he wanted was now entirely exposed.

She trembled when he kissed her there, and he knew she was scared no matter what she said. She had been bitten before, but never out of passion. And his biggest fear was that if he gave in to her, that she might actually become afraid of him.

"Please Damon, I want you to," she pleaded again.

Taking a deep breath, he let his fangs descend.

He pierced her skin as gently as he could, instantly retracting them and shifting slightly so they were still resting against her, but barely. Her blood immediately began to spill into his mouth, possessing him in a way none had ever before. The rapid beating of her heart propelled it into him, but he still pulled lightly at her skin to encourage it; he couldn't resist.

She tasted like the hottest fire and the freshest water combined; it flooded him with a depth of potency that he had never known existed. She was life; and he was instantly addicted.

He hadn't nearly had enough of her when he forced himself to stop, but he was worried that she couldn't spare anymore right then; he had already taken more than he knew he should.

"No, don't stop," she whispered against his blood soaked lips as she pressed her mouth against his.

"No more tonight…"

"Then heal me first…"

He pulled away and noticed the most beautiful pout on her face, turning it into satisfaction when she watched him bite into the base of his hand.

She beamed at him as her lips curved around the wound; her eyes rolling back and beginning to moan in pleasure as his blood slid over her tongue.

He was mesmerized by the sight of her drinking from him, pulling from him with a ravenous need. He knew what it would taste like to her, how strong and sensual it was to a human when taken freely.

As soon as he was confident that she was healed enough, he didn't hesitate to take from her again. She gasped when his fangs dipped into her shoulder, and it only took another moment before he felt her body convulse when the bliss ripped through her, taking him suddenly and severely down with her.

"Oh, my, God," she gasped as she continued to try to catch her breath a few minutes later. They hadn't moved, preferring to just hold on to one another as they struggled to find reality.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

"No, no; I'm fine. It's just, that _was_ really intense," she smiled, more satisfied than she had ever felt. "Why haven't we done that before?"

"I honestly didn't think that you'd be okay with it," he confessed into her neck while he continued to wait for the room to end its excessive spinning.

"Well, had I known it would feel like _that_, I would have asked you a lot sooner..."

"I'm glad you asked. See what happens when you're honest with me?"

"I'll have to remember that for next time…"

"Mmm, can't wait."

* * *

"I don't want you to go," she frowned.

"And I don't want to leave but I need to take care of this; and I thought you wanted to go home?"

"I do, but I wish you would let me help you…"

"I told you, I don't want you worrying about this. Just give me a couple of hours to do some digging and check on the house. I know Caroline said Stefan left after she let him out, but I want you to barricade yourself in this house until I get back, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed with another scowl that he kissed away. "I love you."

"I love you; I'll be home soon," he told her as he left the house.

* * *

This was wrong, sick, twisted. Make it not true; make it a nightmare.

_I don't want to know this. Why did I have to find this out?_

Had she known? Of course she had known. She's the one who started this; she always started everything.

He wanted to be sick, he wanted to throw up. But vampires didn't get sick and they didn't puke their guts out when they couldn't handle reality. They just had to deal with it.

How was he going to deal with this? How was _she_ going to deal with this? He didn't want to tell her; he didn't want her to know. This would be it; this would be the thing that broke them.

_I just won't tell her…I'll tell her I didn't find anything…_

But he knew he couldn't lie to her, even if he wanted. He had promised her he would tell her.

_Fucking promises._

Even if he tried to lie, she would know…she always knew when he was lying. He just wouldn't tell her until he had to…not until she asked.

Why had she done this now? There had been plenty of opportunities to drop this on him in the past; what was the point of doing it now? They were all dead anyways, it was only Elena left…

He knew why she had done this; she was still fucking with his head. She was always fucking with him, even in death. Would it ever stop? Probably not, that would be his curse.

The bitch was lucky she was already dead, because if she wasn't, he would have killed her for this.

She must have known when she found them; that was probably why she had been there in the first place. There was no way this was some coincidence; the bitch had known.

He _should_ have known. No wonder he was drawn to her, to _them_. It made too much sense now; why he couldn't stay away, why the blood was always so strong, too strong…

He had never given much thought to how she had just shown up. He should have. After everything he knew about her, he should have known. He should have asked.

But he never did. He had just taken it as a sign from God that the Devil, disguised as an Angel, had just appeared before him. He had thought it was fate.

And it might have been. But even fate wasn't that cruel, was it?

Of course it was; look at what he was dealing with; what he was going to have to do…

Fate was cruel to vampires; that was the consequence for all the blood they spilled. But _she_ wasn't a vampire, and she didn't deserve this. How was he ever going to tell her this?

He wouldn't; that's how. She didn't need any more pain, things had been bad enough already. And he didn't know exactly how this would hurt her, but he was sure it would. Everything always did.

She didn't deserve this, and he didn't want this for her. Mostly, he didn't want to lose her, not over this.

But how could she look at him after she knew?

He wanted to be sick again.

How in the hell was he supposed to tell Elena, his world, his life, that they were related through Katherine?

* * *

**A/N: So are you sitting there saying "What the hell did I just read?" If you are, then I'm happy. If not, don't worry, still not done with my wicked twists. There's always more in store... So, what do you think Elena's reaction is going to be? Super curious about your thoughts, always love to hear them.**

**As always, thanks for the continued support and please continue to r/r. We still have a bit of a journey before we're complete, so thanks for sticking with me.**

**-Goldnox**


	12. Goodbye To The Unknown

**A/N: Howdy; so things are a little crazy in Damon and Elena land, I know he dropped a bomb on us at the end of the last chapter so we're not even going to delay. Enjoy!**

* * *

He should have been back by now, why wasn't he home yet? What could possibly be keeping him this long?

He was only supposed to be checking the house to make sure that Stefan was really gone; that took two seconds. But maybe he had wanted to do a quick sweep of the town to make sure his brother wasn't waiting somewhere, biding his time. She could understand that; Damon never stopped worrying about her safety.

Caroline had promised that Stefan was fine before she let him out of the cellar. She had said that he was considerably upset about her and Damon being together, but mostly he had just cried over Katherine's death in the days since they had left the house.

The fact that she was still alive to even tell them this was an encouraging sign in and of itself; Elena had been sure that he would attack Caroline as soon as he was free, being she was the one that had put him through detox. But he hadn't hurt her, he had just left.

Damon had said he was still worried that he might try to retaliate against Elena; and to be honest, she was worried too. So she had barricaded herself in the house just as he had told her to when he left; and she hated the fact that she felt so unsafe away from him, but she would have to deal.

But why was he still gone? She knew it wasn't easy for him to leave her there unprotected; she had half expected him to come back in ten minutes. But it had been _six hours_ since he had last walked through her door, and he wasn't answering his phone.

What if something had happened? What if Stefan hadn't left and had gone after Damon? The worry was crippling.

But Damon was strong, and he was smart; she knew he could take care of himself, and he always survived. And Stefan was considerably weaker considering that he wasn't on human blood, or at least hadn't been… But anger and vengeance were powerful too, and she knew that no matter what Damon said, that he would never actually be able to kill his brother, even if he was being attacked by him.

But Stefan? She couldn't be sure what he would do; he was out of control and completely unstable. How had she _never_ seen who he really was?

_Breathe Elena, just breathe_, she told herself repeatedly. _He's fine, he's just… _

She didn't have an answer. She tried to convince herself that if the worst had ever happened that she would instantly know, because if her life had been taken from her, it would surely kill her too. So he had to be fine…_but where the hell was he_?

He had also mentioned that he wanted to do some 'digging' on the family thing, but she didn't know what that entailed. He had been adamant that he didn't want her to worry about it, but how could she not? He was worried; she knew he was, even though he was trying to hide it. Who was he kidding? He should know by now that he couldn't lie to her; and if he was worried, she was worried. End of story.

She really hoped that that's what was keeping him away from her. Maybe it was just taking longer than he had expected? He said to give him a few hours, but six? Six was not a few. Three or even four hours, that was a few. But not six.

"Hi, you've reached Damon Salvatore. I'm most likely avoiding you so don't bother to leave a message."

"Damon, where are you? I'm officially worried…You get one hour before I'm coming to find you, so call me back."

She hung up her phone and waited; she didn't really expect a response, none of her other voicemails or texts had been answered. It was all too familiar.

_Screw it, I'm not waiting anymore._

She tried her best not to look over her shoulder as she ran to her car. If Stefan had wanted to attack her and had been watching the house, he would have already known that she was alone. And locked windows and doors wouldn't keep him out for long if he had really wanted to get to her; Damon had shown her that.

She couldn't get to the boarding house fast enough. She knew he had to be there, something was pulling her that direction. It was a colossal relief to see his car when she arrived; it was like half the weight from her chest was gone. But she knew she wouldn't feel whole again until she could see him and know that he was safe.

"Damon?" she called as soon as she entered the house.

The fire was crackling in the parlor, and though she didn't hear his voice she distinctly heard the sound of clinking of a decanter against what she knew was a crystal tumbler. She knew that sound all too well, and this was not a good sign. He was alive, but he was here; drinking and avoiding her.

"Damon, what is going on?" she said to his back as she entered the room; he hadn't come to her, he hadn't faced her.

"You're supposed to be at the house," he said, sounding strangely detached.

"_So are you. _Why didn't you come back?"

He didn't answer; just continuing to stare into the fire and refusing to look at her.

"Damon, talk to me! What's going on?" She pleaded, stepping in front of him and placing a loving hand on his arm.

He pulled away from her forcefully, still avoiding her gaze and flashing back over to the drink cart to refill his empty glass. She watched as he drained it again and immediately poured another; on his fourth glass she stopped him.

"Damon, that's enough," she said, taking the bottle from his hand.

He tried to walk away from her, but he had made the mistake of going at human speed; she grabbed on to his shirt to stop him before he could take his second step.

"Damon," she said taking his face in her hands so he would have to look at her; but he still refused and was staring at the floor. "You're scaring me. What is going on?"

"Go home Elena."

"What?" She was pierced by his dismissal, he may as well have slapped her, and she instantly released him.

"Leave."

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, having trouble finding her voice as he sulked back to stand in front of the fire.

He didn't answer her.

"What is going on?" she said, finding her resolve as she walked over to him.

He still made no reply.

"Talk to me!" she yelled, pulling on him so he forced to face her.

"No."

"Damon, if you really want me to leave, I will, but I at least deserve an explanation."

"Please…don't," he shook his head.

"Why won't you tell me?" she pleaded with him.

"Please, Elena, don't make me do this."

"Damon, secrets aren't free; they come with a cost. You're _hurting_ me…"

"I can't; please Elena, I'm begging you…just go."

"Is it Stefan? Did he do something?"

"No…"

"Then what is it?!"

"Just stop," he said, turning away from her once more.

"Tell me!"

"I…we're family Elena," he whispered.

"What? Of course we are…but what the hell is going on?"

"No, you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me," she urged him, standing behind him as she wrapped her arms around his waist. He may not want to look at her, but she could still hold him; she knew it always calmed him down when she held him.

"We're…we're related," he told her, not acknowledging the way she was pressed against him. "Our lineage, our bloodlines, they…crossed."

"Damon, I don't understand…"

"What don't you understand?!" he yelled, turning on her. "We're _related_ Elena."

"What?" she gasped stunned. "How is that even possible?"

"How is anything possible Elena?!"

"Damon, please try to calm down. Walk me through this…"

"It's Katherine! It _always_ goes back to Katherine…that fucking bitch!" He screamed again.

"Damon, stop! Just talk to me!"

"No! How can you even look at me knowing this?"

"Because; it doesn't matter. I love you, and we'll figure this out; together."

He sighed dejectedly, shaking his head at her and walking over to sink in his favorite leather chair. She watched as he let his head fall into his hands; he had never looked so defeated.

"God Elena, I'm so sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?" She asked confused as she went to sit on the couch so she could be close to him. "You didn't do anything wrong; do you understand me? You did nothing wrong."

"I don't want this; we don't need this…"

"I'll admit, it's… a little weird; but it's fine. It doesn't change anything."

"How can you say that? It changes everything…"

"No; nothing can change the way I feel about you."

"I'm so sorry…"

"I only want you to be sorry if you're going to let this destroy us. I know we're stronger than this; but Damon, you're really scaring me…"

"Elena, I will always care about you. But this…this is…"

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know…"

She wasn't able to stop herself from beginning to cry; she was unequivocally shocked and terrified that he was pulling away from her over this, something that wasn't either of their faults.

"Damon, please; don't do this," she pleaded with him. "Don't throw us away over something that doesn't matter…"

"It does matter…"

"Why does it even bother you so much? How distant are we talking about?"

"500 years."

"Damon, that's nothing…there's no reason for this…"

"Elena please…just stop."

"Damon, explain this to me, walk me through this. Just talk to me, please."

"I should have known… should have known there was a reason…I thought it was fate…so fucking stupid," he mumbled, shaking his head again.

"Damon, you're losing me…I don't…"

"It's Katherine; that's how we're connected," he said, finally looking at her and speaking with a cold, clear voice. He was suddenly detached again, and she was horrified that he might be turning his humanity off right in front of her.

"How is that possible?"

"She had a daughter before she was turned."

"I know, she told me…she had to give it away."

"Well her daughter had a family, and so here we are."

"I…"

With a frustrated sigh he began, "Anna told Jeremy to tell me that I needed to start with my mom, so I did. I traced her line, but it stopped in 1490 with a woman. There was nothing before that, no record of her parents; but I just had this feeling…like there was something I was missing; like it was right in front of me.

"So, I called Ric and had him bring all of Isobel's research. She had traced your line back to Katherine, and she had everything on it. I don't know how, but she found out about Katherine's daughter and who she was.

"Elena, the name was the same, everything was the same. The beginning of my line, and yours; it all goes back to Katherine."

"Wow…" was all she could bring herself to say.

"I know; it makes me sick just to think about it," he spat at her.

"Damon, just stop. You're being crazy, this is a good thing."

"How is this a _good _thing? This is seriously fucked up Elena!"

"I know, but think about it. We're family now, and nothing can ever change that. It's not like we're first cousins Damon, we're talking about _500 years_."

Continuing, she said, "And I know you hate her, but you made her a promise to protect your family, and I know you; you _never_ break your word. So, just try to focus on the fact that all you've ever done is promise to protect _me_, okay?"

"But we'll always know it's her blood that's in our veins; that bitch is never going to leave us alone…I just want her out of my life!"

"I know, but she can only hurt us if you let her. She was always going to be a part of us Damon, because she was always going to be my ancestor. The only thing that's changed is that now we know that she's yours too."

He left his seat angrily, preferring to pace around the room in disgust.

"Damon, I can handle this; it doesn't bother me. But I need you to be honest with me…are you going to be able to deal with this? Because the way you're acting…are you…" she paused as she tried to find her breath, but she couldn't with the hole that was spreading through her chest. "Damon, are you breaking up with me?"

She hated how the words sounded coming out of her mouth; they felt wrong, small, like something for a childhood romance and people with crushes, and what she and Damon had was so much more. She had always thought that if she was with him, it would be forever.

He looked stunned at her question, making him stop where he was. He took a deep breath as he looked at her, instantly filled with regret that he could ever make her question him. He had done it again. _Would he ever stop hurting her?_

He rushed to sit next to her, wrapping her in his arms where she belonged. She didn't hesitate to let him hold her, to let him make her feel safe and secure.

"No Elena, of course not. It'll be fine, we'll be fine…I was just so scared that this was it, that this would be the thing that took you away from me. And I can't lose you…"

"Then tell me you love me…" she cried.

"I love you Elena, I do; you'll never know how much, and I will never stop. No matter what happens, I swear. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," she said, pulling away to wipe her eyes and look at him. "But I need you to listen to me, okay?"

He nodded.

"You cannot hide from me. If something is bothering you, I need you to tell me. I know you want to protect me, but you need to understand that I want to protect you just as much. You've always let me lean on you, but this will only work if that goes both ways. I need you to trust me."

"I'm sorry Elena, and I do trust you. I'll try harder…"

"It's all right. _I love you Damon_; you do know that, don't you?"

"I do."

"Okay, so just let this go, and everything will be fine."

She kissed him gently to let him know that she wasn't mad, and she didn't feel any different about him, she was just relieved that they were still together. She had thought she had lost him.

But he was in no mood to be gentle with her. He had been overwhelmed by the stress and the fear of the unwelcome discovery, and he had been convinced that she would run. He needed to feel her, to know that she was still his.

* * *

"Hmmm, where do you think you're going?" he grumbled half asleep, reaching out for her as she climbed out of his bed.

"I just want some water; you want anything?"

"Just you," he whispered, his eyes still closed. "You want me to get it?" he barely breathed.

"No, it's fine; I'll be right back," she promised as she buttoned up one of his shirts that she had already slipped on.

"Hurry…"

She loved how serene he looked, splayed out on his stomach under his white sheets; they were only covering him up to his hips, leaving his whole back and shoulders visible for her to admire. He had always looked comfortable but distinctly out of place in her room, and it gave her such peace to know that he was finally able to relax by being back in the bed he loved so much. She couldn't resist the excitement at knowing they were finally free to come back and stay as long as they wanted, and it felt so good to be home.

She really was thirsty and had wanted some water, but she forgot all about it when she noticed the light on in his office once she made it downstairs. She had only been in there maybe once or twice before, and she had only stood at the doorway then; she had never wanted to invade his privacy.

When she had lived there before, he had spent the majority of his time either in his room or the parlor; but occasionally she would find him sitting at the large oak desk in his leather backed chair as he looked over paperwork or talked on the phone.

It had been a striking image for her the first time she had discovered him in there; he had looked serious and powerful, like he was in control of the world. He looked like a _man_; so solid and wonderfully different than the boys she was constantly surrounded with. He was hypnotic and beautiful, and she couldn't help but be in awe of how much she found she respected him.

She let herself fully observe the room now as she crossed the threshold; it screamed Damon in the way she knew and loved. There was still a small fire burning though he hadn't been in there in hours, and there were only two pictures on the wall. They looked old, but beautiful, and she wouldn't be surprised if they were priceless antiques that should probably be locked in a museum; knowing him, they most likely were at one time or another.

A crystal decanter was on his desk instead of at the ever present drink cart in the corner of the room; next to it sat the glass he must have been drinking from, now painfully empty. She was still thirsty, so the Bourbon she was starting to acquire a taste for would do more than fine for now.

Settling into his chair as she poured herself a drink, she couldn't help but look over the papers that were cluttered across his normally tidy desk. There were endless names and dates; it was the lineage, _their_ lineage, the one that he had been tracking. _It was their family._

She studied it closer, looking through the list of relations she had never known she'd had. It was almost disturbingly thin; it seemed as though everyone had only one child, if any at all. It was almost a miracle that the line had even survived all the way down to her as it continued on in this way; the only exception being that of Damon's mother who had given birth to not one son, but two.

Both Damon and Isobel had done their research thoroughly, providing dates for every birth and death. He had circled the end of every branch of the tree, and as she inspected it, she was shocked. They were all dead now and she would be the last one; it was only her and Isobel's mother left.

Loneliness consumed her, and she felt more isolated than ever. She had let herself get unconsciously excited that she still had family, somewhere; family that Damon had promised to protect. But they were gone, and she was alone. She couldn't stop the tear that rolled down her cheek, splashing on the paper that was trembling in her hand.

"Elena?" he asked as he found her at his desk. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"They're…they're all dead," she choked out, unable to stifle her grief for those she had never known.

With a heavy sigh he walked to her, pulling the paper from her hands and setting it back on the desk.

"I know…" he said quietly.

"I'm sorry; I shouldn't have come in here. I just…"

"Hey," he said sweetly, kneeling down beside her and tucking her hair back behind her ear, "it's perfectly fine. You can snoop as much as you want; this is, legally, your house after all…" he said, trying to get her to smile.

"I don't know why I'm crying…"

"Because, you're feeling the loss of people you never knew, and now, never will," he said as gently as he could. "You feel lonely, and probably a little abandoned."

"Am I crazy?"

"No," he soothed her, "this is perfectly normal. I'd be worried if you didn't feel this way; that's just who you are Elena. You've lost so much family already, and I'm sorry that you feel like you've lost even more now."

"Sometimes, when you say things like that, I feel like you know me better than I know myself."

He couldn't help but smile at her.

"Look, you will never be alone, and you will always have family. You still have Jeremy; and, I know he's technically your cousin and not your brother, but he is in your heart and he loves you as his sister."

"Thank you Damon."

"My pleasure…"

"You're still forgetting one person," he looked confused so she continued, "You; we're family now, and as long as I have you, I know I'll be okay."

He kissed her tenderly and dried her tears, and taking her hand whispered, "Come on, let's go back to bed…"

* * *

She was in the shower and he knew he'd only have another five minutes at most to do what he needed to do. He told himself he wasn't hiding things; he just didn't want to tell her, yet.

He didn't want to get her hopes up in case it all fell through; but he wanted to try to do this for her, she deserved it. She deserved everything, and he would do whatever he could to give it to her and make her happy.

He grabbed his phone from his bedside table and blurred down the stairs and out the front door; he didn't want her to overhear.

He waited for the other end to pick up, relieved when it finally clicked on.

"What," the voice said, irritated. "I'm busy."

"Then get un-busy," Damon told him. "I need a favor, Ric."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks you guys so much for the support and following, it means the world to me. **

**I won't have any updates tomorrow (Thursday 11.22) due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but I will try to get back to updating as quickly as I can starting Friday. Happy holidays to all!**

**Please r/r, always anxious to hear your thoughts, hopes and predictions. Hope this meets and goes above expectations, and as always, thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	13. No Apologies

**A/N: Hope you guys had an excellent Thanksgiving Holiday, here's the next chapter as promised. Enjoy!**

* * *

"So, what are you girls going to do?" he asked as he watched her putting the final touches on her make up.

"I don't know; hang out, talk, the usual. Why?"

"Just asking," he said, innocently shrugging his shoulders. "But, I want you to promise me two things before you go."

"Damon…it's just Bonnie and Caroline," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I know; but you still need to promise me."

"Fine, what?" she said intrigued.

"Don't let them give you any crap, about _anything_."

"Damon…"

"Say 'I promise'."

"I promise," she smiled at his reflection. "And the other?"

"Have fun," he said seriously.

He had surprised her at this; she would have bet anything that he was going to tell her to be careful or be safe, but instead he just wanted her to enjoy herself. _He's so good to me_, she thought blissfully.

"I love you," she beamed at him in the mirror from where she could see him; he was leaning comfortably against the doorway to the bathroom.

"I love you," he said walking to her and turning her so she faced him. "And I want you to have a good time, so don't hurry back. Just…"

"Have fun," she finished. "But, are you sure you don't want me to hurry back?" she asked with a seductive smile.

"I'm not even going to respond to that," he teased before kissing her until she was out of breath. "Now go, before I don't let you leave."

"Okay, what are you going to do?"

"I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself occupied Elena," he laughed.

"You should call Ric, have a guy's night," she suggested.

"I'll think about it," he said. "Now go; and remember, _have fun_."

"I will, and I'll be home soon," she promised with a final quick kiss before she left the house.

She really was excited to get to spend evening hanging out with her friends, and it warmed her heart that it had been Damon's suggestion in the first place. He must have been worried that after her small breakdown the night before that she needed to be around her oldest friends, her true family. And she did feel a little guilty that she had basically forgotten all about them after spending so much time being wrapped up in Damon.

Bonnie and Caroline didn't seem to be upset with her lack of contact with them though; Bonnie was still dealing with the fallout from Jeremy's admission of seeing ghosts, and Caroline had been handling Stefan until recently; but she still felt like she had been neglecting them. She also knew that all three were in desperate need of some girl time, and there was no time like the present.

"Well, well; can't believe he actually let you out of the house," Bonnie teased her as she walked through the front door.

"I see we're diving right in," Elena said with a sarcastic smile as she passed her.

"Geez Bonnie! She just got here…" Caroline called from her usual spot in the living room.

"Oh stop, she knows I'm just messing with her," Bonnie said as she followed Elena to where Caroline was waiting for them.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to talk about guys tonight," Elena said, taking her seat.

"What? Who agreed to that? I didn't," Caroline said non-plussed. "Bonnie?"

"What?"

"Look, if you don't want to talk about 'the J word' that's fine, but there's no way we're not talking about Damon."

"Caroline!" Elena exclaimed, laughing heartily.

"What? Bonnie, back me up here; you know you're dying to get the scoop."

Bonnie just laughed at her, shaking her head.

"Fine," Caroline pouted. "So Elena, how have you been?"

"I'm fine Caroline; how are you?" she asked, playing along. She knew her friend would only make it another five minutes at most before she began peppering her with questions about her relationship.

"I'm good, nothing new to report. Bonnie?"

"I'm good, besides the obvious," she said sadly.

"Good," Caroline perked up, "so now that we have that out of the way and there's _nothing else_ to talk about, we can get to the good stuff."

"Caroline, you're hopeless," Elena sighed happily; she had really missed her friends.

"Yeah, a hopeless romantic and a sucker for a good smut story."

"My lips are sealed," Elena blushed.

"Fine, then you can nod."

Elena nodded at her friend, giving in to her little game.

"Excellent. So, are you happy?"

Elena couldn't help the large grin on her face as she nodded her silent 'yes'.

"Good; is he treating you right?" Caroline asked seriously.

Elena smiled even larger as she nodded again.

"Okay; are you guys really in love? Like, real_ forever love_?"

Elena nodded slowly but seriously so her friend would know that she was being absolutely honest.

"Awww," Caroline crooned. "Okay, final question; is _it_ good?" She asked with a knowing smile.

"Caroline!" Bonnie exclaimed at her friend's brazenness.

"What? Let Elena answer if she wants to."

Elena waited until Caroline looked back to her before nodding quickly and enthusiastically.

"I knew it, you're practically glowing," she said, clearly satisfied.

"What? You're crazy…" Elena laughed.

"No, she's not," Bonnie said seriously.

"Gee Bonnie, why don't you tell us how you really feel?" Caroline said defensively.

"No; Elena already knows how I feel," Bonnie said without a smile.

"Bonnie!"

"Caroline…" Bonnie mocked her friend, "it's _Damon_. And you didn't see how sick and upset she was the last time they had a fight."

"But she loves him Bonnie; we need to be supportive of her!"

"_But it's Damon_," Bonnie said again, sounding disgusted.

"Yeah, it's Damon. He loves her; he's _always_ loved her."

"Can 'her' get in on this conversation?" Elena said, slightly irritated at the way they were talking like she wasn't sitting in the same room with them.

"Sorry," Bonnie mumbled, clearly not apologetic at all.

"Look Bonnie, believe me, I know how you feel about him, and I know how upset I was when I was here, but that wasn't his fault. That fight was because I was being a bitch to him, not because he had done anything wrong."

"Sure it was," Bonnie said sarcastically.

"That's the truth Bonnie, and as my friend you should believe me."

"But he's _dangerous_ Elena."

"How is he dangerous?" She asked incredulous.

"He kills people; he tried to kill me!"

"That was a long time ago, he was a different person then; he's changed," Elena pleaded.

"People don't change Elena," Bonnie spat.

"Really Bonnie? How can you even say that? Think about freshman year, and where we are now; you're a witch, Caroline's a vampire, and I'm…"

"In love with Damon," she said, sounding defeated.

"Yes, I am Bonnie. More than I want to tell you!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I can't talk to you about this! I wish I could tell you how wonderful he really is when it's just the two of us, and how happy he makes me, but I can't. You hate him, and you've made it clear that you're always going to hate him."

"Because he's a monster, Elena."

"How can you think that I would love a monster?"

"You loved Stefan," Bonnie said coldly.

Elena couldn't even speak; she had no words for her friend, though her mouth was open in shock.

"Okay, I'm calling a time out," Caroline interjected at the look on Elena's face.

"Fine."

"Fine," both agreed angrily.

"Okay," Caroline breathed with a sigh of relief. "Elena honey, why don't you go into the kitchen and get something to drink," she said with an obvious hint of kicking her out of the living room so she could talk to Bonnie alone.

"Fine," Elena huffed as she left the room.

"Bonnie," she heard Caroline say gently as she left.

From the doorway in the kitchen she could still hear the conversation even though the girls couldn't see her; they all knew this corner well from the years of listening in on each other's conversations when there were arguments between the three of them. Only, usually it was Caroline who was in time out, not Elena.

"No, Caroline; how can you support this?"

"Because," her friend said seriously, "we both love Elena and we want her to be happy."

"But it's Damon!"

"I know; but she loves him. And you can't deny he loves her, we always knew that."

"Still…"

"What's really bothering you Bonnie?"

"It's just…you know he's going to turn her," she said quietly.

Elena forced herself to stay where she was, even clamping a hand over her mouth to keep herself from responding to the accusation.

"I know," Caroline replied gently.

_What?_

"Then how can you be okay with this?" Bonnie asked, sounding heartbroken.

"Because it's what she wants. She's happy Bonnie, happier than she's been since even before her parents died. And she deserves that, especially after everything she's had to go through. And, becoming a vampire isn't the end of the world if it'll keep her that way forever."

"But it _is_ the end of the world, Caroline."

"Thanks a lot Bonnie!" she said, obviously hurt.

"Sorry; I just don't want that for her."

"Well, you had better get used to the idea. She said she hasn't made up her mind yet, but she _is_ considering it, and it probably won't be long before she decides. You may as well prepare for it; you know this is going to happen and she needs you, especially after it does."

"Do you really think she's happy?" She asked, unconvinced.

"Yes Bonnie, I do."

"I just wish it wasn't him."

"Well it is; and he's obviously not going anywhere so it wouldn't hurt to try to be nice."

"Do I have to?" She said, still sounding sad but beginning to tease her friend again.

"If you don't want to hurt your best friend, then yes."

"Fine; sometimes, I hate you."

"Only 'cause you know I'm right," Caroline said happily.

"Can I come back in yet?" Elena called from where she had been eavesdropping.

"Yes," Caroline called out to her.

"Elena, I'm sorry," Bonnie said as Elena re-entered the room. "I want you to be able to talk to me, and I do want you to be happy. But I don't trust him."

"Well I do; so trust me," Elena pleaded with her friend.

"I do; but if he hurts you…" Bonnie warned.

"He won't," Elena said quickly.

"He better not."

The rest of their visit passed without incident, and by the end they were actually having fun; so she had kept her promise, _or half of it, at least, _she thought with a guilty smirk. She was still frustrated with Bonnie, but she was undoubtedly grateful to Caroline for sticking up for her. She made it a point to promise herself that she would have to do something extra nice for her, soon, as a thank you.

She knew that Caroline had been right, too. Elena had been considering turning for Damon, but when she was honest with herself she knew it was inevitable. She _would_ turn for him; she couldn't bear the thought of anything less than an eternity with him and she loved him enough that she wouldn't force him to spend his without her. She knew that he couldn't lose her, and she wouldn't make him.

It was impossible for her to keep from smiling as she drove back to the boarding house. She knew she wouldn't tell him her decision for a while; he wasn't really ready to hear it yet and she didn't want to argue about it now, not with everything else they were dealing with. But she was excited about the possibilities of her future, and it felt like her new secret was trying to burst from her in joy.

She was even more pleased at the sight of Ric's car in the driveway when she pulled in, and she was glad that Damon had taken her up on her suggestion that he spend some time with his friend.

She didn't want to disturb them, so she entered the house as quietly as she could, though she knew Damon would hear her anyway. But she wasn't prepared for what she heard coming from the parlor; there was no way she could have _ever_ been ready for that.

* * *

"I'm here; what's so important Damon," Alaric called as he entered the house.

It was later than Damon would have liked; Elena had been gone for a few hours since she had left, and he didn't know when she would be back.

He had felt slightly guilty that he had tricked her out of the house by tempting her with the idea of seeing her friends, but he had done it _for_ her. She did need to see her friends, and he did want her to have fun and try to enjoy herself; but he also needed to talk to Alaric, and he didn't want to do that with her there. He just hoped that she wouldn't be back before they were done talking.

"Hi Ric, come on in. Make yourself at home," he said sarcastically.

Alaric had just waltzed right on in through the front door like he always did, but still; it pissed him off. Didn't anyone knock anymore?

"I told you; I'm busy, so make this quick."

"Fine; I need a favor."

"I already did you a favor; I brought you Isobel's research."

"It's for Elena," Damon told him, knowing that the man wouldn't be able to refuse anything if it was for her.

"What is it? Is she okay?" Alaric asked, suddenly alarmed.

"She's fine; she's with Blondie and Witchy."

"Surprised you let her out of your sight," Alaric teased him.

"Don't push me Ric; we may be friends but I won't hesitate to kill you if you piss me off," Damon warned him with a smile.

"Dick."

"Want a drink?" Damon tempted him, adding in a sing-song voice, "You're gonna need it…"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to ask you to do something you don't want to do, but you're going to do it anyways, for her," Damon told him while busying himself at the drink cart.

"Then don't ask me," Alaric said, taking a seat on the couch.

"I told you, it's for Elena," Damon said as he handed him the drink his friend hadn't asked for and taking his own seat. He waited for Alaric to take a sip before saying, "I want you to introduce her to Isobel's mother."

Alaric choked on his whiskey, spitting half out on the floor and drenching his shirt.

"Told ya," Damon smiled as he sipped his own glass of Bourbon.

"There's no way I just heard that right," Alaric mumbled once he had caught his breath.

"No, you heard me. Long story short, Elena is literally the last of…her bloodline and the rest are all dead. Needless to say, she didn't take the news all that well that her entire family is rotting in graves; so, I thought I would let you introduce her to the only other one that's still kicking."

"Damon, I can't do that," Alaric said solemnly.

"Yes, you can, and you will; I know you have to have contact with them and you know they would want to meet her. She needs this, so do it," he said without a trace of question in his voice.

"Damon, I can't. But it's not because I don't want to, which I really don't…"

"Then why the hell not?"

"Because…Isobel's mother, Mary…died this morning."

"Not funny, Ric."

"You think I would joke about this? I got the call this afternoon; she died this morning."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" Damon exclaimed, disappointed and frustrated that his best laid plans _always_ fell through.

"Afraid not."

"Damn it," Damon muttered to himself. "What happened?"

"I don't know; I just know she died and the funeral is in a couple of days."

"Well, I guess that's that…" he said, taking a defeated sip of his Bourbon.

"So Elena is really the last of her entire bloodline?" Alaric confirmed.

"Yep."

"That's got to be hard…"

"You don't know the half of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing; another story for another day."

"Never mind, I don't want to know…" Alaric said, shaking his head.

Damon smiled at him, "Probably better that way."

"How's she doing; really?" he asked, sounding deeply concerned.

"She's fine; she'll be fine," Damon assured him; he knew Alaric had a complete soft spot for the girl who would have probably become his niece by marriage, had Jenna lived.

"So you two are…"

"Bye Ric," Damon said, stopping him.

"You know, Jeremy's not happy about this; about you and her."

"Well, tell Whoopi that A. it's nobody's damn business and B. I don't give a shit what he or _anybody_ thinks," he said, warning him.

"Fine; just thought you should know."

"Bye Ric," Damon said again.

His friend studied him closely for a second before saying, "She doesn't know, does she?"

"Know what?" he couldn't help but ask.

"That you asked me to introduce them."

"No, she doesn't; and she doesn't need to know."

"Are you going to tell her that Isobel's mom is dead?"

"I…I don't know," Damon said honestly. "She doesn't need any more shit right now."

"And you don't want to hurt her," Ric said, finishing the sentence where he knew Damon had stopped.

Damon didn't reply; instead he just took a long pull from his drink.

"She deserves the truth."

"Don't tell me what she deserves; and I swear to God Ric, if you tell her…"

"You'll kill me; yeah, I got it."

"As long as we're clear."

"Fine; but if you don't tell her, I will."

"Your neck," Damon shrugged at him.

"Whatever, I'm out of here," he said, getting up to leave. "You know, I'm still waiting for that apology," he said as he began to walk out of the room.

"You can keep waiting; it's not going to happen."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Alaric yelled, turning around to face him. "I'm supposed to be your friend, and she was my wife!"

"I'm not going to apologize for turning her, so you can leave," Damon said calmly, still sitting in his chair and looking abnormally relaxed, considering their conversation.

"Damn it Damon, I want you to apologize for _sleeping_ with her!"

"Not going to apologize for that either," he said as if he had been asked to apologize for killing a fly.

"Then I'm telling Elena," he threatened.

"No, you're not," Damon said sternly.

"_Yes_, I am."

"Fine Ric, but don't say I didn't warn you," he said stoically, setting his drink down.

"Dick," Alaric mumbled, turning his back on him.

Damon was behind him before Alaric could take another step, and he didn't hesitate as he grabbed the sides of his jaw and twisted with a loud snap.

Ric's lifeless body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud; and though he was currently dead thanks to the broken neck, Damon knew he would all too soon rejoin the land of the living due to the ring on his finger. He didn't know when his friend had started wearing it again, but it had been plain as day as Ric had held his drink in his hand.

As the body dropped, Damon was suddenly confused; if Ric was dead, why was his heart still beating?

_It wasn't_, Damon realized. He'd know that heartbeat anywhere; how hadn't he heard it before?

_Fuck_. She was home.

He didn't know how much she had heard, but she had obviously witnessed him killing Alaric.

_Fuck_.

He took three deep breaths to prepare himself before he moved; it would only take a few small steps to cover the painfully short distance from where he was hidden by the room, to where he knew she was standing. Crossing the distance, he found her staring at him, looking absolutely revolted.

"Elena…"

* * *

**A/N: UH-OH. Somebody's going to be in touble... Will try to have the next chapter up asap, hate to keep you waiting in suspense. Thanks for reading and following, PLEASE continue to r/r, always enjoy your thoughts and predictions. **

**-Goldnox**


	14. What You Can't Take Back

**A/N: Prepare youselves, in any way you can...**

* * *

"I'm supposed to be your friend, and she was my wife!" She heard Alaric yell.

"I'm not going to apologize for turning her, so you can leave," was Damon's cold reply.

"Damn it Damon, I want you to apologize for _sleeping_ with her!"

There was an earth-shattering crack somewhere in the universe, and it was deafening. She could barely hear Damon's next words over the echo that was drowning out the world.

"Not going to apologize for that either."

"Then I'm telling Elena."

_Tell me what? Nothing could be worse than this; there was nothing else but this…_

"No, you're not."

"_Yes_, I am."

"Fine Ric, but don't say I didn't warn you…"

"Dick."

Snap.

Thud.

Elena didn't need to see them to know that Damon had just broken Alaric's neck; she knew that sound only too well from the time he had done the same to Jeremy.

That liar. That monster. That…

"Elena…" She heard him say, but it was still too hard to hear. Whatever had broken in her world was still banging and crashing around inside her.

He took a hesitant step before her, but she immediately turned around and shut her eyes; she couldn't stand to look at him. Not now, not after he had… she couldn't bring herself to swallow the words.

"Elena?" She heard him say again, closer, and felt a hand on her shoulder. She couldn't pull away fast enough; the mere thought of him touching her made her want to rip her skin off and douse it with acid.

"Elena, just let me explain…"

"No," she heard herself whisper.

She couldn't think, she couldn't feel; she just needed everything to be quiet, it was all still too loud.

He was saying something, but she didn't know what. Words didn't mean anything, they didn't make sense, and they didn't matter; not when the world was over.

"Just stop!" She heard herself scream.

Her eyes were still closed, she didn't have the strength to open them; but she realized her cheeks were wet. When had she started crying?

Probably when life had stopped with a jarring halt, sending her falling into an abyss that she hadn't known that she had been on the edge of… but she should have known; she should have seen it before. It was as deep as the sky, and as wide as the ocean. It had always been right in front of her, just…out of reach.

She didn't know she had been so close, she hadn't wanted to see; but it had always been there, waiting to capture her when she ultimately stumbled or was finally thrust into it, whichever came first.

_Breathe_, she told herself.

But she didn't want to. Her lungs were filled with the heaviest lead, with the thickest cement; they were burning with the hottest fire and the coldest ice.

Something was sitting on her with a devastating weight; it was burying her, crushing her, shredding her as she stood.

She should be dead, she felt dead, and how did you still cry when you were dead? That's what happened when life was over; you died.

It took all her effort to open her eyes, and she stared with intent focus on the front door.

This wasn't a dream, this wasn't a nightmare, this was real, this had happened…

She made herself lower them to the floor as she turned, concentrating with her lifeless mind on every small step as she passed him and went to the parlor. Alaric was dead on the floor; how she envied him.

Kneeling down beside him, she felt for a pulse but found none; she knew she wouldn't. She twisted his head as gently as she could so it was no longer laying at the sick angle it had been at when she had come to him. Carefully, she took each of his hands and placed them on his chest so he appeared to be sleeping; he looked so peaceful, like life was still perfect.

She hated him for this; for not realizing what he had done, what he had told her. For being able to escape the horror and be in another world, safe from the destruction he had brought upon her.

But she couldn't blame him; this wasn't his fault. It was Damon's. It was always Damon's fault, and she hated him for it.

"How could you do this?" She whispered.

* * *

"Elena," he said, taking a cautious step towards her. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised that she turned her back on him, but it still hurt that she wouldn't even look at him.

"Elena," he said again, now standing behind her. As gently as he could, he placed a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked herself away; that stung almost as much as if she had hit him.

_What the fuck was I thinking?_

But he never thought, and he knew it. He always just reacted, and it would always be the reason his life would be in ruins.

"Elena, just let me explain…"

"No."

How was he supposed to fix this if she wouldn't let him explain?

"Elena, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have done this… I wasn't thinking; I didn't think! But please, just talk to me, let me make this better…" he begged her.

"Just stop!" She screamed at him.

He shut his mouth like she told him to, terrified that if he didn't do exactly and anything she wanted him to that she would walk out the door and never come back.

He watched her warily as she turned, hoping against hope that she would come to him, look at him, _anything._ But she didn't. She just stared at the floor, crying soundless tears that he had made fall; that burned him with his name and left pieces of him missing as they slid down her face.

He didn't reach for her as she passed him, the space between them expanding with every unspoken word she was screaming at him, every inch of her disgust pushing him further away from her. She had never looked up, and he knew she was utterly unable to look at the monster he knew he was.

He still didn't dare say a word as he observed her go to Ric and sweetly re-arrange his body while he stood in the doorway. He knew she must have been remembering the way Jeremy had looked when he had killed him in the same way, right in front of her.

_What the hell is wrong with me? How could I do this to her?_

"How could you do this?" he heard her breathe.

As always, she knew exactly how to cut him down, to reveal him as the broken thing that he was. He didn't deserve her, but he had always known that. And she didn't deserve him; she had never done anything so wrong to deserve any of this.

* * *

"How could you do this?"

"Elena, I'm…"

"Don't," she spat at him quietly. "I don't want to hear it."

"Please Elena, at least let me apologize…"

"No," she breathed. "You won't."

"What?" he gasped. "Of course I will; just please let me try to fix this…"

"You can't fix this Damon; it's broken," she murmured.

"I know you're upset, and you have every right to be, but Alaric is going to be fine; he has his ring…"

"Just stop talking Damon," she told him softly, shaking.

"Sweetheart…"

"Don't," she snapped venomously, "Don't call me that."

"Elena please…I'll make this better. I'll apologize to Ric, I'll try harder; I'll never do this again, I promise…"

"You can't make this better, so stop lying."

"Elena," he pleaded, crouching down beside her, "I'm not lying; I'm sorry. I'll do whatever you want me to do, just tell me what to do…"

"Just get away from me," she whispered.

She still hadn't looked at him, she couldn't. She knew if she did, she would break; and how much more could you crumble when you were already shattered?

"Is that really what you want?" he asked, sounding heartbroken.

She didn't care; she still couldn't feel. Could humans lose their humanity? They must be able to, because she had. He had stolen it from her.

"Yes."

"Okay, if that's what you want," he said gently.

He stood up and took a few steps back from her, giving her the space she had requested. He locked his arms across his empty chest, desperately trying to hold it, himself, together. He didn't understand.

Elena didn't do this, she didn't act like this. She was a fighter, she was like him. She screamed, she roared, she broke and threw things in fits of rage; she didn't whisper and stay rooted in place, trembling under her anger. She bawled, she sobbed, she didn't reign herself in to cry slow, inaudible tears when her emotions overtook her.

The fact that she was paralyzed over Alaric's body terrified him. This wasn't a fight, this was defeat.

He couldn't stand the stillness, the quiet; it was making him sicker by the second. He wanted her to berate him, to hit him, to do _anything_; he needed her to show him some flicker of life.

He wouldn't give up without a fight; they had come this far, they had gotten through worse. He knew they could work this out, but they had to talk this through. That was the only thing that ever worked; not space, not time. As long as he could get her to talk to him, they would be fine. He would, he could, fix this.

But he didn't understand why this had hurt them so much; it wasn't the first time he had killed Alaric, and she had even been able to forgive him when he killed her brother. It had taken time, but it was different then; and they were so much stronger now.

But this had affected something in her, and he didn't know what it was. He knew that when he had snapped Alaric's neck that he had demolished something in her too; he was just praying that it was something that _could_ be restored, and that she would let him. But how could he repair it when he didn't know what he had broken?

He tried to focus on all the ways he would make this up to her if she would just give him the chance; his thoughts the only thing keeping him from going to her, to where he knew she didn't want him.

He forced himself to stay still as he watched her continue to sit next to Alaric's body; not speaking, not moving, just staring at his friend with a look of death in her eyes. The seconds became years, her silence stopping time. It only re-started when she finally opened her mouth again.

"I trusted you," she whispered.

He could only hang his head in shame at the familiar words, the same she had used on his brother when she had been done with him.

"I gave you everything; and you…" she shook her head; she couldn't find the words.

"I was ready Damon; I was ready to die for you, to turn for you. I would have given you my life…forever…but now…how could you do this?"

"I'm sorry Elena, I'm so sorry…" he choked out.

"Don't."

"Why won't you let me apologize?"

"Because; it doesn't make a difference."

"Elena, I know I fucked up here, but…he's going to be okay…"

"You think this is about Ric?"

"I… I don't understand…"

"Of course you don't; why would you…"

He couldn't stand it anymore, he had to see her eyes; he had to feel her next to him. He had to find something to hold onto, because she was drifting away right in front of him.

"Elena," he said, kneeling next to her again, "look at me, please."

"No."

As gently as he could, he reached tilt her face towards him as he had done a thousand times before, but she pulled away again.

"Don't touch me," she growled under her breath, finally letting their eyes meet.

He had never seen such hatred, especially not from the person who had loved him more than any other ever had; the only one that ever really had. _What had he done?_

"What is going on?" he gasped at her.

"I don't want you near me," she said bitterly.

"I'm not moving until you talk to me; I won't touch you, but you have to talk to me. What is this about?" He begged her, desperate for an explanation.

She didn't respond.

"Elena, talk to me!"

"You…you…" she swallowed, feeling sick.

"What? What did I do? Just tell me so I can fix it!"

"You can't fix this Damon; you'll never be able to fix this. You should know," she said coldly, "some things you can't take back."

"What did I do?"

"Isobel."

He didn't understand; yes, he had turned her, but Elena already had known that, and what did that have to do with him killing Alaric? It didn't make sense…

"Elena, I'm sorry I turned her, I shouldn't have done that. I would take it back if I could, but…"

"You slept with her," she said, pushing the words from her mouth with all her strength; but she had only barely managed to get them out and she didn't know if he had even heard her, it had been that quiet. But they continued to hang there above them, and they would always be there now. Nothing was going to ever take them away; nothing could.

He hadn't realized how much she had heard until she said it; and it made him sick to realize that she hadn't known. But how could she? They didn't talk about Isobel, ever. She didn't need to be reminded that she had been forced to watch the woman that had given her up for adoption, the woman that had threatened her and terrorized her, die. But she had still been Elena's mother; nothing could ever change that, no matter what Isobel had done to destroy their relationship.

She was right, he didn't want her to be right; he couldn't take this back, he couldn't fix _this._

They sat in silence for what felt like forever, what else was there to say? If she had heard Alaric's request for an apology, she had heard Damon's answer. He had said that he wouldn't apologize for that…

So what could he ever say now to negate what she believed; to make her know that it had meant nothing? That he would erase it all and re-write 150 years of history and his existence if he could just make this better, make this go away…

But there was nothing he could say, so he didn't say anything.

Maybe if they just stayed there together, silently, so long enough, they could find a way to get through this, past this. There had to be a way, there was always a way…

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered.

Damon broke.

"Please Elena," he began to cry, "don't say that. We'll get through this, I'll fix this somehow; you just have to let me try…" he begged her. "Elena, I'm sorry, I love you, don't do this…please…"

"And I loved you," she said, sounding detached, "but I can't. Not anymore. It's over Damon."

"No, it's not over; I won't let it be, _you_ can't let it be," he cried harder.

"It's too late. It's done."

"No, don't do this…you don't mean that; we're stronger than this…Please Elena, don't give up, not now…"

"Just stop," she pleaded.

"No, I won't stop….I'm not giving up, and I won't let you... I'll _never_ stop fighting for us; you have to fight, Elena! I love you!"

"I know."

"Then why can't we fix this?"

"Because you slept with my mother, Damon," she said disgusted. "You had sex with her; you _touched_ her, you…"

"Don't Elena, please…" he beseeched her, feeling sick.

"You were inside of her…"

"Stop…"

"Tell me Damon," she said louder, harsher, "how many people in my family have you fucked? Was it just the two of us? Or did you screw her mother too?"

"Elena, I didn't…"

"Didn't what? Didn't what, Damon?"

"I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"Well, it doesn't matter because _you keep doing it_, and I can't take this anymore," she said with finality. "You're _killing_ me; and _I would have died for you_, but not now. Not after this. I won't let you hurt me anymore."

"I won't anymore, I promise…" he continued to cry.

"I don't care about your promises; they don't mean anything."

"Please don't say that…"

"I hate you for this," she said, injecting poison into him with her words. "I hope you know that. For touching me in the way for touched her; you're…repulsive."

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

"I don't want you apologies; I just want you out of my life."

"No…"

"I mean it Damon. Don't follow me, don't call me; don't you dare come to the house. I don't want to see you, I don't want to know you; I just want to forget you. So stay away from me, forever," she said and stood up.

"Elena, I'm sorry! I'll do whatever you want me to do, just don't do this…I can't lose you…" he wept, still sitting, completely devastated.

"You've already lost me."

"No," he begged, grabbing at her hands to keep her there with him; but she pulled them out of his grasp without hesitation.

"Don't touch me," she spat at him. "You will never touch me again; do you hear me? _Never_. Just stay away from me," she said.

With that, she was gone.

* * *

She didn't remember driving home, but she was there. Bonnie was waiting for her like she had asked, though she didn't remember what she had said to her. She didn't know if Bonnie was talking or not, it didn't really matter and she didn't care. There was nothing that anybody could say that would ever matter again; not now.

At some point Caroline showed up, but she didn't know if she had called her or Bonnie had. It didn't matter, she couldn't think, she still couldn't feel.

She didn't know how Caroline had done it, or what she had been forced to do to accomplish this, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. But Caroline had done it, and that was…she couldn't do what she needed to without her. And now it was over.

She had been barely able to hold then pen steady in her hand as she signed the title of her house over to Bonnie. Caroline had waited outside, she had to. But when it was done and Bonnie signed her name, Bonnie had been the one that needed to invite Caroline back in. It had worked; he couldn't get to her now.

They didn't know what had happened, and they hadn't asked. Not yet. They just did the one thing they could do to protect her and give her what she needed right then; then they watched, both heartbroken, as Elena forced herself upstairs.

Every step was torture; every room was a memory. He had tainted her house and it made her sick. She wanted nothing more than to burn it to the ground.

* * *

He didn't know what was happening.

The world had stopped spinning.

The universe had collapsed.

It was over; he had lost her.

He had to keep his hand over his heart to make sure that he wasn't actually dead, yet. It felt like it had been ripped out of his body, the hole he felt growing in his chest told him that. But his body was intact, though he had no idea how.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't move.

_She's gone._

_I've lost her._

_She hates me._

_It's all my fault._

_I deserve to die._

At some point Alaric had awoken next to him, but he didn't remember when. He could faintly recall him screaming his name and shaking him. But he couldn't respond, other than to repeat her name.

"Where is she? Is she hurt? Damon, where's Elena?!"

"She's gone…"

"I've lost her…"

"She hates me…"

"It's all my fault…"

Alaric had no words of comfort for him, so he just sat there with Damon. There was nothing else to be done.

He had never seen anything so broken as the vampire, the man, next to him. He was lost, he was destroyed, he was hopeless, he was defeated. And he knew the feeling; it was too familiar, too close, and still too raw.

He knew how it felt to want to die to stop the pain, because that's how he had felt when he had lost his wife. And he knew the overwhelming despair that came with the knowledge that because of whatever you had done, and all the things you hadn't, it was all ultimately your own fault.

He knew that the strength of love could twist you, push you, force you to say unspeakable words and cross invisible lines; and that no matter what you did, or what you said, some things were beyond repair and would always remain to be.

_Some things, you just can't take back._

* * *

**A/N: So I've been completely depressed and crying over this for two days now; they're beaking my heart in every way, my chest literally hurts right now. This killed me to write, but it had to be done.**

**So please guys, read, review, send me your thoughts; that's the only thing that'll make this easier to keep going, 'cause right now, I almost want to give up, even though I won't just for the sake or you all. But...they're killing me...**

**Thanks for the love and support, and as always, for sticking with me as we try to get them through this.**

**-Goldnox**


	15. Lie To Live

**A/N: Thanks so much for the wonderful response to the last chapter, really needed it. And for that we have the second of the day, very late in the day, but still. Enjoy!**

* * *

She had never been this sick in her entire life. Not when she had hid from him before and thrown up for days, not when her parents had died and she was almost catatonic. It had never been like this.

Every time she closed her eyes, she screamed. The images were haunting her, tormenting her. She saw every kiss they had shared, every touch, every caress. She could hear every whisper, every promise of devotion, every single endearment.

Her mind had preserved him perfectly for her; the square-ness and strength of his jaw and how it flinched when he smiled; the lines on his chest that defined him, and the way they melted down to his stomach and into his hips…

She could still feel the way his shoulders felt under her hands, how the muscles in his back would stretch and pull; how his hands would touch her so lightly sometimes she could barely feel them though they could crush her all too easily.

She knew the way his lips felt against her own, the way they molded to hers seamlessly. And she could still taste his breath and smell the spice of his cologne…his memory was killing her.

She was freezing, though her skin was on fire. The fever had struck her the next morning, surging through her with unfiltered animosity. Caroline was worried about it, but Elena knew why it was there. It was trying to burn him out of her, to remove the trace of him from where he had sealed himself into her skin and her body. She knew she would have to burst into flames and be reduced to a pile of ash before it was over; that would be the only way.

She heaved for hours, though she was long since empty. Her body would spasm, twist, jerk, under every convulsion in its attempt to expel him from her. It was killing her as it tried to fight the possession he had taken over her life.

Reality blurred; time slipped.

She would find herself in places she didn't remember going, wearing clothes she didn't remember putting on. Sometimes she would be in her bed, but she didn't want to be there; other times, she would open her eyes and be in a frigid bath, but she didn't want to be there either. Whenever she woke, Caroline was there; but she was still alone. She had never been so alone in her whole miserable existence.

He was gone, forever. They were done, forever. There was no going back.

She loved him, she hated him. She begged for it to all go away; she needed it to be over. She wanted to wake up and realize that it was all just the worst nightmare of her existence; but whenever she woke, he wasn't there, and he never would be again.

She told herself he was dead. She promised it, pleading with her mind and her heart to believe it, to know that it was true. It would be the only way she would ever survive this.

She could handle death, she could stomach the grief. She had done it so many times before. It was so much easier when there was a sense of finality that you couldn't reverse no matter what you did. But this was worse.

He hadn't died; he was still out there, somewhere. Her life, her soul, still existed; just away from her. And that had been her choice, and his fault.

He had cried and begged for her to fight for them, to not give up, to believe in them. And she had walked away; she had to.

She couldn't forgive him for this; for the lies, the secrets. For making her love him, need him, this much. How many times had he done this before?

How many lives had he destroyed? How many women had he ruined with just his smile? How many times had he said that he loved them, and then killed them when he broke their heart?

She cried for the faceless women of his past, she cried for her mother; had she loved him too? Had he promised her an eternity of happiness just like he had done to her? He had turned Isobel, and then left her behind… No wonder she had turned off her humanity; that was the only way to survive Damon Salvatore.

He stole your heart with the snap of his fingers, and could crush it in the palm of his hand without blinking. He was a liar, he was a killer, and he was a manipulator. He was the Devil, incarnate.

Why hadn't he left her alone? She didn't understand… How could he have tricked her so thoroughly? It had felt so real; all the hours he had been with her, all the things he had done for her, even before she had given in to him. Why even bother? She wasn't worth the effort he had gone through to claim her…

And why fight to keep her? Why didn't he just let her go? Why cry, beg, plead for her to stay, to not give up? It didn't make sense. He had already won; he had gotten what he had wanted, so why not let the game be up?

But he still wasn't giving up, and she didn't get it. Why couldn't he just leave her to die in peace? Hadn't he done enough? She had said she wouldn't let him hurt her again, but that had been futile. You can't control other people hurting you; if you could, no one would ever feel pain in the first place. And he never stopped hurting her.

It had been dark when it happened; too early for the sun although daylight wouldn't be far behind. She was in the bathroom, clinging to the toilet as her body rejected all the pain she was trying so hard to swallow; it was trying to force it out of her in any way it could. Caroline was with her; Caroline was always with her…

The front door swung open in a crash and then there was silence.

"He's here…" Elena mumbled.

"Yes, but he can't get in and he can't hurt you Elena," Caroline tried to comfort her.

Then she heard him screaming.

He was in unimaginable pain, agony, torture.

Caroline was gone in the next moment and the screaming ceased; she could hear Bonnie's voice drifting up to her from below.

"Why did you stop me Caroline; he deserves this! Let me kill him, he deserves to die!"

"But Elena can hear you hurting him and you're hurting her! Just…not right now Bonnie; she can't take anymore."

"Where is she?" she heard him say.

"Where you can't hurt her!" Bonnie yelled.

"Let me in, please…Caroline, I'm begging you; just let me in, let me go to her, she needs me…"

"It's not my call Damon."

"Then whose is it?!"

"It's mine," Bonnie replied.

"Fuck!"

"That's right, and you're never coming in! If you ever come near her again, I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Elena threw up again, violently. He was too close to her, he felt too real again, too alive.

_He's dead, he's dead. _

_This is just a dream and he's not really here. _

_He died in Georgia. _

_Stefan killed him for staking Lexi. _

_He died from the werewolf bite. _

_Klaus killed him. _

_He's dead, he's dead. _

_He's not real. _

_He's dead._

"What's wrong with her? Why is she throwing up?" She heard him ask, sounding worried.

"You!" Bonnie yelled. "You're what's wrong with her! You did this! Are you happy Damon?"

"Caroline," he beseeched, "tell me…"

"She's sick Damon, she's really sick. She's not eating, she hasn't slept, and I can't get her fever under control. It's bad…"

"You have to heal her Caroline, give her blood. It worked last time; just do it!"

"I'll take care of her Damon, but you need to go. She doesn't want you here, and you're only making things worse."

"I'm not leaving until you heal her!"

Then Damon was screaming again.

"Bonnie, stop!" Caroline shouted.

"No!"

"Caroline…go," he grunted.

"Elena?" Caroline said to her as she re-entered the bathroom.

"Is he dead?"

"What? Of course not…"

"Then compel me Caroline, make me believe it…or take away my memories; I'm begging you. I can't deal with this," she cried, desperate. "Make me forget or convince me he's dead; I can't live any other way…just make it stop hurting, please…"

"Okay Elena, if that's what you want… Look into my eyes…"

* * *

29 hours, 37 minutes, 22 seconds, 23 seconds, 24…

It may as well have been a thousand years since she walked through his door.

It had taken four hours and 52 minutes before Ric had been able to get him off the floor. He couldn't move, he couldn't feel.

He tried to shut off his humanity at Alaric's urging; but he couldn't. He didn't want to, he needed to feel this. This is what he deserved.

Even when he felt for the switch, it wasn't there; it was gone. She had broken it, stolen it, changed him irrevocably, and now she was gone.

In all his years he had never felt this much pain before. Not when his mother had died, or he had thought Katherine had, the first time. Not when Elena had run after blaming him for Stefan. He was glad he didn't need to breathe, because he couldn't. She was his breath, she was life, and she was gone.

Twenty four hours and forty five minutes of stillness and silence. That's how long he sat in his chair with his head in his hands, not moving. Alaric thought he was catatonic, in shock, dead; and he was.

His body was still; it had shut down, and he was glad. He wanted it to be over, to all go away. He couldn't handle this; knowing what he'd had, and lost.

He couldn't believe how blind he was. He had wasted so much time… time thinking he would lose her to/over Stefan and the four days it had cost him. He had tried to get to her, but he had given up; and now he would do anything to get those four days back, to get one day back. Make it an hour, a minute, a look, _anything._

He had lost hours due to Katherine and his need to bury her. He should have stayed with Elena then; she had needed him, and he had walked out on her, not returning for hours.

He lost even _more_ time when he had taken his anger out on Katherine's grave after walking away from her, again; he had been so scared that he would lash out at her if she was anywhere near him.

He had just thrown away all those precious minutes like there had been an endless supply…

Had it really only been 48 odd hours since he had been the one pushing her away; telling her to leave because of some meaningless discovery about their ancestry? Had he really been so stupid and arrogant to think that he could justify avoiding her, ignoring her calls and texts and not returning to her when she had begged him to?

He had always known that one day he would lose her. He didn't know how it would happen or when or why, only that it would. He had told himself that he would even let her go if that's what it took to make her happy; but now he knew that it was a lie. He couldn't let her go; not now, not ever. And he had been so afraid of what he knew was inevitable, that all he had done was to speed up the process.

He had pushed her away, shut her out, kept things from her and hurt her continuously. Of all the enemies she had ever fought against, all the things that he thought would take her away from him, he had been the worst.

And he had done it again. He had let her leave, let her walk out the door. He could have stopped her, but he didn't. He just let her go; and he was enough of a coward that he hadn't gone after her. Why hadn't he gone after her?

She had told him not to, but that had never stopped him before. How many times had she told him she was done before they ever even started? But he always went after her, and she always forgave him, eventually.

And here he was, continuing to sit still. Not moving because this time was different, and they both knew it…

She was hurting, he could feel it. Their bond was still there, pulling him to her, telling him that she was in pain. He didn't know if she could feel his hurt too; he hoped she couldn't, he didn't want to hurt her anymore. He tried to tell himself that she wouldn't be able to differentiate between the two, that her human senses weren't as sharp as his, that she couldn't feel it.

He wanted to know she was safe, he needed to know; and he couldn't handle the not knowing. He wanted to see her, to feel her, but he couldn't. But he would settle for her voice, if he could get her to answer the phone. He didn't expect her to, but he had to try…

He shifted to retrieve his phone from his pocket and his muscles protested; he had been still for too long.

He lit up the screen and he wanted to be sick. Six missed calls, three voicemails and four texts; but they were all from _before_, when he had run from her because he couldn't handle that they were technically related.

He scrolled through the texts.

_Whatcha doing? I miss you_

_Hope you're coming home soon_

_Starting to get a little worried…_

_Baby where are you?_

Then he called his voicemail…

"_Hey Babe, it's me; just wondering where you are. Call me when you get this. Love you."_

"_So, if you come home I promise to make it worth your while…I may or may not be naked as I leave this message. I guess you'll just have to come home to find out... See you soon."_

"_Damon, where are you? I'm officially worried…You get one hour before I'm coming to find you, so call me back."_

He was out of his chair before the message had ended; he wasn't doing this anymore, he wasn't wasting another God-damned minute while she was still here and alive.

He would fight, he wouldn't give up. He was Damon fucking Salvatore and he would get back the woman he loved or he would die trying.

He couldn't get to her fast enough; he had wasted too much time already. He didn't care what time it was, he couldn't spare another second.

He turned the handle on her front door, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn't.

_Why wasn't it locked?_

But when he went to enter, he couldn't; he struck an invisible wall. The door swung open and hit the wall with a resounding crash, and then the pain hit him.

His mind burst into flames, and it was endless. It would last forever, it would never stop.

Then it was gone.

He heard the girls arguing as he struggled to stand; she had done it, she had changed the deed on the house so he was no longer welcome. It felt like he had lost her all over again.

"Where is she?" he asked. He knew she was in the house, he could hear her, but barely. It sounded like she was in the bathroom. Why was she in there? It was almost 4 A.M.

"Where you can't hurt her!" The witch yelled.

"Let me in, please…Caroline, I'm begging you; just let me in, let me go to her, she needs me_…"_

_I need her._

"It's not my call Damon," she said.

"Then whose is it?!"

"It's mine," Bonnie said, her voice dripping with sick satisfaction. That evil bitch of a witch; she would never let him in and Elena had known that.

"Fuck!"

"That's right, and you're never coming in! If you ever come near her again, I swear to God I'll kill you!"

Then he heard it, she was heaving. That's why she was awake; she was sick.

"What's wrong with her? Why is she throwing up?"

"You! You're what's wrong with her! You did this! Are you happy Damon?"

The bitch was psychotic if she actually thought _any_ of this made him happy.

"Caroline…tell me…"

"She's sick Damon, she's really sick. She's not eating, she hasn't slept, and I can't get her fever under control. It's bad…" she told him, the worry plain on her face.

_What had he done to her?_

"You have to heal her Caroline, give her blood. It worked last time; just do it!"

He knew it would work because he had been forced to do the same the last time he had almost killed her.

"I'll take care of her Damon, but you need to go. She doesn't want you here, and you're only making things worse."

"I'm not leaving until you heal her!"

Then his head was in flames again. It was worse than before…than ever…it would last until he was dead…

"Caroline…go," he managed to get out.

He had meant it; he wouldn't leave until she was better and if that meant he would spend it writhing in pain on her front porch, then so be it. He wasn't leaving until he knew she was all right.

The pain finally stopped and he could just make out her voice, scarcely.

"Is he dead?"

"What? Of course not…" Caroline assured her.

"Then compel me Caroline, make me believe it…"

_What?_

"Take away my memories; I'm begging you," she cried. _He cried._

"I can't deal with this. Make me forget or convince me he's dead; I can't live any other way…just make it stop hurting, please…"

_No Caroline, don't_, he prayed.

_Don't do this, please don't do this._

_I can't fix this if you take it away…_

"Okay Elena, if that's what you want… Look into my eyes…"

He didn't know what route she had gone down, but whichever it was didn't matter. He hadn't stayed to listen; he couldn't hear as he was erased from his love, and he would never be able to put it back, no matter what he did.

There was no going back from here.

* * *

"How's she doing?" Bonnie asked as Caroline came downstairs.

It was 1 A.M., and Elena had only deteriorated more rapidly since Damon had come and gone, almost 24 hours ago.

"She's still worse. I don't know Bonnie, I almost feel like we should take her to a hospital or something. I still can't get the fever to break; and she's resting, but to be honest, I don't know if she's asleep because of the fever or exhaustion."

"She'll be okay," Bonnie tried to comfort her, "and you're doing an amazing job of taking care of her."

"I just wish she would let me heal her, but she still won't let me give her any blood and I don't want to force her."

"It'll be okay," Bonnie said again, sounding drained.

"What are you doing with those?" Caroline asked, indicating to the large stack of grimoires laid out before her on the table.

"I'm just looking through them, keeps my mind occupied," she said.

"Okay, I'm going to make some coffee; you want some?"

"Sure," Bonnie said, returning to her books.

Caroline was in the middle of pouring out the second cup when she heard her gasp.

"Bonnie, what?"

"Caroline…" she whispered, looking horror-struck.

"Bonnie, what?" She asked again, now impatient and nervous.

"Go find him Caroline, now," Bonnie said urgently.

"Who?"

"Damon!"

"But…"

"Go Caroline, there isn't time! Just get him here, now! Go!"

* * *

He was ready; it was done. He was prepared; he had done all he needed to do.

It had taken an hour at the bank and more than a little compulsion to get it all switched over to her name; and another three at his lawyer's office to finalize it all.

He had always told himself that if he had ever been lucky enough to have her, he would give her anything; and he did. He gave her his heart, his soul, his devotion. He gave her his most precious memories, and what he thought were all his secrets. Now she would have every business, every investment, every house, every possession. He wouldn't need it anymore.

It had taken longer than he thought it would to write the two letters that he had needed to leave; the first being to his brother, the second to her.

Stefan would be fine; he would understand.

But he was fearful that she wouldn't; that she had lost the memories she would need to understand the words he had written, what he had needed to tell her. He just hoped that Caroline would explain it, maybe give her back the little that she would need to comprehend it. It wouldn't take much.

He wanted to give her what she needed, no matter the cost; so he would do it. He was always prepared to do whatever it took to make her happy; even if that meant dying.

Apparently, that was what it would take. She needed him to die to stop her pain, so that's what he would do.

He sealed his heart away in the envelope in his hand, and laid it on his desk. He hoped that someone would find it soon; it would probably be Ric when he didn't hear from him in a few days. It really didn't matter, as long as it found her.

He checked the time; 1A.M.

He was ready, but he had to make a decision. He had two choices; he could wait another four or five hours for the sun to rise, or he could find a stake.

Stake it was; he didn't want to wait anymore.

He found one in Stefan's room; he always kept one in there.

He felt the wood in his hands, letting himself appreciate the seemingly innocuous object that would be the end to both of their suffering.

He wasn't afraid; he was ready.

"I'm sorry Elena," he whispered to the empty room. "I love you..."

And he plunged the stake into his chest.

"Damon!"

* * *

**A/N: So, please don't mutiny! I'm going to do everything in my power to get 16 up tomorrow asap. I hate leaving you guys hanging, especially when you're all so good to me!**

**Please r/r, always excited to hear your thoughts, and many many thanks for following. Holla to all the guest reviews that I can't respond to personally, you guys rock.**

**We're getting close guys, I promise. Talking like maybe 3 ish (+/-) chapters left, but we'll see how that goes. No promises on final count, but we're definitely in the home stretch, don't know if that makes ya happy or sad, but it be the truth. Never thought this story would get written so fast, but it's kinda awesome.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	16. With Eyes Sealed Shut

**A/N: Thank you all kindly for not sending me any hate mail after the end of the last chapter, I was a little worried I would be flooded with it ;) And for your kindness...**

* * *

"Damon!" Caroline called from the doorway of the boarding house.

She knew he had to be there; his car was in the driveway…

Then the smell of non-human blood hit her, hard.

"Oh my God, Damon! What did you do? No, no, no…" she cried.

She had found him lying on the floor of Stefan's room, a wooden stake protruding from his chest. He wasn't moving, his eyes were closed, and he wasn't responding to her pleas…

"You can't die," she cried over his body, "you can't die; she needs you," she sobbed looking him over. "You can't leave her! Not now!"

She grabbed the stake and pulled on it with all her strength. The sound was sickening as it slid from his body, leaving behind a large hole from which blood began to pour.

His gasp was an unspeakable relief to her, giving her back her own breath with hearing him striving to find his; she watched as his eyes snapped open in shock as he struggled to comprehend where he was.

_What happened? I'm not supposed to be alive… How had I missed?_ He thought as he stared at the ceiling.

"Damon, can you hear me?" Caroline was yelling at him.

_What was she doing here?_

"What the hell were you thinking?!" She screamed at him.

"Just…go Caroline," he choked out. "Just let me die…"

"No Damon…"

His eyes closed against his will; he was losing too much blood. He hadn't fed in days; not since… his body didn't have enough blood left to try to heal the self-inflicted wound.

"Damon, wake up!" She yelled, but he didn't move. "Stay here," she commanded, but he couldn't have moved even if he had wanted to…

She flashed down to the basement and quickly returned with an armful of blood bags.

"No," he sputtered when she ripped off the seal of the first bag and held it to his face. It took all his willpower to turn his head away; the smell was so tempting…but he knew he needed to die; it was the only way to save her.

"Damon, you have to drink! Just drink, please!"

"Just go!" he yelled with the little strength he had, "I deserve to die; she wants me to die…"

"No Damon! We have to go… she needs you…"

"No…"

"Damn it Damon, we don't have time for this! Something is wrong and you have to get to her, now!"

"What?" he asked completely panicked. "Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I don't know Damon; just drink so we can get you there," she begged him again.

He finally gave in to her request and drained one bag after another until his body began to heal. He didn't have a choice; something was wrong and Elena needed him. He had to protect her, even if that meant staying alive a little while longer to keep her safe.

"Come on, we have to go," she said, pulling him up to stand as soon as the hole was closed.

He collapsed, still too weak from the blood loss. He had drunk two bags, but it wasn't enough by far to heal and eradicate the injury from his attempted suicide.

As his knees buckled under his own weight, Caroline caught him; wrapping one of his arms around her shoulder so she could try to support him.

They stumbled down the stairs, stopping at the front door; she left him leaning against the wall for support as she went back to the basement and returned with more blood. She knew he couldn't make it to Elena's without his strength, so they would have to drive and let him drink and heal in the car.

"Give me your keys Damon," she snapped at him, and she was thankful that he didn't even protest; he just pulled them from his pocket and handed them to her before climbing in the passenger seat of his car.

The tires burned as she peeled out from the driveway; they couldn't waste any time.

"Caroline; what's going on? What's wrong with Elena?" he asked, putting down the last empty blood bag and starting to feel his strength come back to him.

"I don't know Damon, but she's been getting worse. Her fever…it's making her hallucinate and lose consciousness… Then tonight, Bonnie was looking over some grimoires and she just freaked. She started yelling that I had to come find you and get you back to the house, fast…"

"Bonnie sent you?"

That terrified him; there was no way in hell that witch would ever send for him unless something was absolutely wrong…unless Elena was…

"Did the blood not work?" he whispered, dumbfounded.

It _always_ worked; it had worked in the past, there was no reason it wouldn't heal her…

"She won't take it," Caroline confessed as she drove faster.

"Then shove it down her fucking throat! You're stronger than her! Put it in something! Anything! You were supposed to heal her Caroline!" He screamed at her, enraged.

_What was wrong with her? How could she let this happen?_

"I know; I'm sorry. But I…I couldn't force her Damon. I thought she would be okay…" she cried under the weight of the guilt he was pushing on her.

He couldn't get his door open fast enough as they finally pulled into the driveway. Caroline had rushed around to help him, but he didn't need her help, he didn't want her help. She had done enough; she had let Elena almost die…

Ric's car was there…_why was his car there?_ And there was another that he didn't recognize…

This was not good.

_What the hell was going on inside that house?_

Caroline crossed over the threshold first with Damon right behind her, but he couldn't enter; he still hadn't been invited in.

"Bonnie!" Caroline yelled once she realized Damon wasn't behind her; he was stuck outside on the porch.

Bonnie ran around the corner from where she must have been sitting in the kitchen, tears streaming down her face.

"Come in Damon," she whispered.

* * *

There were so many voices, whispering, crying…voices that Elena knew and loved.

"I'm so sorry Jeremy," she heard Alaric say.

Jeremy was crying…_why was he crying?_

"Can I get you anything?" She heard another man say. She knew that voice too; it sounded like Stefan…

She knew she must have been dreaming if Stefan was in her bedroom with Jeremy and Alaric.

"No…I just…" Jeremy was mumbling through his tears.

"I know," Alaric said, trying to console him. "We'll find something Jeremy; there's still time. We've always found a way before…"

_What were they talking about?_

_And why was everyone so upset?_

_This was such a weird dream…_

"She's awake," she heard Stefan say, sounding heartbroken.

_What the hell was going on? Why was he even in her dream? She didn't want him there…_

"Elena, can you hear me?" Jeremy whispered; his voice was much closer now…

She tried to open her eyes, but they were sealed shut; her dreams weren't normally like this…

She finally managed to open them the slightest bit, but it was really no use; she could only make out a shifting and blurry face in front of her before it was gone again. She didn't have the strength to keep them open.

_Why was she so weak?_

"Jeremy?" she sputtered, but her voice sounded wrong. It was dry and cracked and it hurt to form the words.

"Yeah, it's me Elena; I'm right here," he said, sounding worried.

"Jeremy…"

"I'm here Elena, it's okay…You're not alone…we're all here…" he said, his voice breaking.

"Shh, it's okay; don't cry Jeremy," she whispered, trying to give some comfort to her brother.

"It's not okay Elena, it's not okay…"

"Sure it is," she tried to smile at him, "I'll wake up soon and it'll all be over…"

It was still so painful to talk, but she had to try to give him some reassurance if she could; she couldn't help it.

"What is she talking about?" Alaric said quietly, farther away than Jeremy, but still close enough that she could hear him.

"She's confused, probably hallucinating…it's the fever," Stefan told him.

"Elena, you're not asleep; not anymore," Jeremy told her slowly, gently.

"Of course I am," she managed another faint smile, "Stefan's here…he wouldn't be here if this was real…"

"I'm here Elena," Stefan said softly, much closer now. "But you're not dreaming, honey. You're just very sick…"

"No, you hate me…"

"No Elena," he sighed sadly. "I don't hate you," and she felt someone take hold of her hand and begin to rub little circles on it with the most delicate touch.

She tried to open her eyes again, and slightly turned her head so she was facing the hand that was being caressed with love. When she finally got her eyes open, she immediately recognized the fuzzy face of the man next to her; she would know him anywhere.

"Stefan?"

"Hey," he smiled at her. As she watched, he brought up the hand he was holding and pressed it to his lips, and she barely felt it as he kissed her skin.

"Stefan, why are you here?" she asked, starting to worry that this might not be a dream after all.

"Because, you're very sick honey…"

"But why are you here?"

He wasn't making sense, nothing anybody was saying was making any sense…

So what if she was sick? That was no reason for him to be here, looking at her like she was…like she was…

"Elena, you're…"

The agony on his face broke her heart; she hated seeing him in so much pain. Even after everything he had done, said, she would still always have a place for him in her heart; and she didn't want him to feel whatever it was he was feeling to make him look _like that_.

"Not yet, Stefan," she heard Alaric say, though she still couldn't see him; he was too far away. "Not until he's here; we need to wait…"

"What? Wait for who?" she asked, letting her eyes close again.

She was so tired, she just wanted to sleep; she wished they would just let her rest, if only for a little while. And sleep was calling her; it was beckoning with warmth and comfort, promising to release her from her pain if she would just give in… It would make everything better…

"For Damon, Elena; he's on his way. He'll be here soon…"

"No; he's dead," she whispered, angry that they were reminding her that he was gone…she didn't need this now, not when she already felt so horrible.

"What? What is she talking about?" Jeremy asked alarmed.

"She's just confused Jeremy; it's the fever," Stefan said again. "Elena, Damon's fine and he'll be here soon; just try to hold on until then, okay?"

"No…"

"It's going to be okay Elena; he'll be here soon…" Stefan tried to assure her.

"Why? Why can't I just sleep…I'm so tired…"

"Elena," Stefan mumbled, sounding like he was about to cry.

"You're dying Elena," Jeremy confessed, beginning to cry again. "And…and we can't stop it…"

Nobody spoke for minutes as they waited for her reaction.

"It's okay," she smiled.

"No Elena, you don't understand…" Jeremy sobbed.

"Shh, it's okay…" she said again.

"How can you say that?" Jeremy whimpered.

"Because; it's time."

"No…I can't lose you too, Elena…you can't leave me alone!"

"It'll be okay, you'll be okay," she said sweetly as she tried to comfort her brother.

"No, not without you…you can't die…"

"I'm already dead, Jeremy; it's okay…"

"What do you mean 'you're already dead'? What are you talking about?!" He began to yell, breaking under the emotional weight of seeing his sister fade away before him.

"She's confused Jeremy," Stefan said.

"No…I'm not…Damon killed me," she said softly as a tear rolled down her cheek. "And I killed him too, so it's okay… all is fair…in love…and war…"

It was so difficult to speak, the words were buried, she couldn't find them…

"Elena, he's not dead!" Jeremy yelled at her.

"Yes he is; I killed him…"

Sleep was so close, it was almost there…

"No Elena, he's coming…just wait, stay awake, you'll see; just keep holding on…"

"It's okay, just let me go…I want this, it'll be okay…" she managed to mumble before everything went black.

* * *

"Come in Damon," Bonnie whispered, and that was all that he had needed.

He stepped over the threshold and into the home that he had been cast out of by his love, his life.

"Where is she?"

"She's upstairs…" she sniffled.

He made for the stairway at once, but Bonnie stopped him.

"Damon, wait…"

"No, she needs me…and you won't keep me from her anymore," he said with conviction.

"She's dying Damon," she cried, the words barely escaping her lips.

"What?" he gasped.

He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want it to be true; but he had already known, as soon as Caroline said it was Bonnie that sent for him, he had known…

But this _couldn't_ happen, this wasn't _supposed _to happen. She _couldn't_ die; he was the one that supposed to be dead. _Not her_.

"She's dying," the witch repeated.

"Then I'll heal her," he said, trying to convince both of them that he could.

"It won't work Damon, we can't stop it…I can't stop it…"

"What do you mean it won't work? Of course it'll work!"

"No Damon, it won't…it's a spell, and…I can't break it," she sobbed.

"What spell? What the hell are you talking about Bonnie?!"

"It's Klaus…"

"I don't have time for this," he said angrily as he continued towards the stairs.

"I found that spell Damon," she said, rushing after him, "What killed Katherine is killing Elena…"

"What?!"

"Klaus had a spell done so that if a vampire…if any vampire killed him, _they_ would die…along with any _human_ descendants…their entire family…"

"No…"

"I'm sorry; I can't break it. I'm trying…but I'm not strong enough…"

This couldn't be right, this couldn't be happening; she had to be wrong…

But he knew she wasn't, and she wouldn't lie to him; not about this. It all made too much sense, it all fit…and he didn't want it to.

It was why Katherine had died after she had torn Klaus' heart from his body…

It was why she had told him about their family, begging him to protect them…

Had she known about the spell? She may have; she always seemed to know everything…

But why had she killed Klaus if she had known?

_To save me; she knew she would die and she saved me anyways…_

_I killed both of them…_

And the line was dead now, they were all gone… he hadn't protected them; he had been too late…

_I killed her…I killed them…I failed them…I couldn't save either of them from this…_

_The one promise I would never break and it was broken before I had even made it…_

_It's all my fault…_

And so many had died; and all so recently, seemingly back to back, all from a sudden illness…

_How hadn't I seen that before?_

They were all in different parts of the world, but it was always the same… Three days after the fever would strike, they would just…die.

There had only been Elena and her grandmother left; and now she was dead too…

How long had it been since she had died? Three? No, four days…

"When did the fever start?" he whispered.

"The morning after she came home…"

Two full days and all this night she had been burning; this was the start of the third day…

"Damon, she's not going to make it through the night…"

"Yes she is, because I'm going to save her; even if you can't," he said fiercely and ran up the stairs to her room.

He burst through the door, but stopped when he took in what was happening inside.

Alaric was sitting on her windowsill with his head in his hands; as Damon glanced at him he saw tears falling on to the floor, splashing on the carpet.

She was in her bed, their bed, and appeared to be sleeping; he knew she was still alive because of her heartbeat, but it was too light, too slow… She was barely hanging on.

He knew at that moment that Bonnie was right; she looked like she could go at any second. Her skin was alarmingly pale and loose, covered in a heavy sheen of sweat that glistened at him as a drop rolled down her temple. Her hair was dull and lank, swirling around her as she rested on her pillow; her chest was barely moving; she was struggling to breathe…

But she wasn't alone. Jeremy was sitting on one side of her bed with his back to him, though his head had whipped around at Damon's entrance. He was crying, unashamed, as he stared at Damon; his eyes pleading with him to fix this, to fix her.

On her other side sat his brother.

_What the fuck was Stefan doing here?_

He felt a rage he had never felt before as he realized that Stefan was holding her limp hand in both of his, rubbing little circles on it with his thumb.

_How dare him…_

He was next to him in an instant, grabbing his arm and throwing him across the room. He didn't even care as his brother landed on her vanity, destroying it as the wood exploded beneath his weight and the mirror shattered on top of him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!"

He turned his back on his brother and sat on her bed where he had been.

"Elena, sweetheart, can you hear me?" he said suddenly gentle, brushing her hair away from her face from where it had fallen.

He couldn't believe how hot she was; it felt like her skin was on fire.

"Damon," Stefan said quietly as he pulled himself up from the floor.

"Shut up; don't fucking talk to me," he spat at him. "What are you even doing here?" he growled, though his eyes never left Elena; she was trembling…

"Bonnie called me; I came right away…"

"Of course she did," he mumbled.

"Damon, she's…" Alaric said softly.

"No; she's going to be fine," Damon said strongly, cutting him off.

"She keeps saying you're dead Damon; she said she _killed_ you," Jeremy whispered. "Why does she keep saying that?"

"I told you Jeremy," Stefan said frustrated, "It's the fever, she's confused…"

"Caroline, get in here now!" He bellowed, though he hadn't needed to; she would have heard him regardless.

"What? Is she…" she cried as she sped into the room, looking terrified.

"What did you tell her Caroline?"

"What? When?" she asked, confused.

"When you compelled her! Did you just erase me or did you tell her I was dead?!"

"What? Damon, I…"

"Which is it Caroline?! You have to reverse it; now!" He screamed at her.

"Damon, I didn't compel her…" she confessed.

"Then why does she think I'm dead?"

"I don't know," she said softly, "she's been saying that for days…"

"If you're lying to me…" he threatened her.

"I'm not; I swear Damon, I didn't compel her."

"What the hell are you talking about? What happened?" Stefan asked, utterly lost in their exchange.

"They…they broke up," Caroline told him.

Elena stirred, and everyone fell silent and still, except for Damon.

"Elena, sweetheart, can you hear me? I'm here Elena, I'm right here…"

"No, you're not," she breathed so quietly that only the three vampires in the room had heard anything.

"Sweetheart, open your eyes and look at me…I'm not dead, I'm right here…just open your eyes, please Elena…"

"Damon?" she whispered as her eyes fluttered open, and immediately shut.

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**A/N: Whew! Things are getting a little intense in that room, will try to have next chapter up asap as always. I hate leaving you guys in the lurch, really.**

**Please continue to r/r, I cherish every thought and am touched by your following. Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	17. Sealed With A Righteous Kiss

**A/N: Y'all are amazing. 'Nuf said...**

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"Damon?" she whispered, and was silent.

"Elena? Elena!" Jeremy was screaming, grabbing at her hysterically.

"Be quiet Jeremy!" Damon yelled, and her brother silenced himself.

The room went still as Damon listened, desperate to find what he was looking for; then he heard it, her heart was still beating.

"It's okay Jeremy, she's still alive," he told him softly, and everyone breathed again.

"Jeremy, come on," Alaric said gently with a slight tug on his shoulders.

"No, I'm not leaving…"

"Jeremy, come on; she'll be all right… But we need to give them a minute," Stefan said, pulling him up by the arm and helping Alaric to lead him from the room.

Stefan stopped at the door and turned to face his brother, who was still staring at Elena; his eyes hadn't left her once.

"I'm sorry Damon," he said, and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Damon wanted to lock it, but he couldn't; he still hadn't fixed the lock from when he had broken it before. But he was thankful to both his brother and Alaric for leaving him with her; for knowing they needed this time undisturbed.

He finally let himself cry as he watched her sleep; she looked so peaceful now. Though she was undoubtedly sick and looked it, he loved that he still found her devastatingly beautiful; she always would be, and nothing would ever change that.

All the pain, disgust, and anger she had thrown at him the last time he saw her was gone now, replaced by a look of comfort as she dreamed.

He wasn't supposed to touch her, she had told him he never would again; but that wouldn't stop him now. He had no way of knowing how many more precious seconds he would have with her, and he wouldn't waste them.

He let his fingers brush her hollow cheeks, the bones far more prominent than they should ever be. Her skin almost burned him; the fever that was taking her still refusing to bend or break, only to continue to consume her in its deathly flame.

Her eyes looked sunken and her lashes were lying against what was blue instead of olive; he wanted to scream when he saw that her perfect lips were dry and cracked instead of the red fullness he knew so well. He had seen her like this before, but this time was so much worse.

He lightly took her hand in his, and set the softest of kisses into her palm; placing it against his cheek, he closed his eyes as he breathed her in. He could still smell her favorite lotion that was seeped into her skin, although she hadn't put it on in days; he knew that because it was currently on the counter in his bathroom, right where she had left it, where it belonged.

The scent of her blood was calling to him from where it flowed through her wrist, but he had no urge to drink from her; it only reminded him of the bliss they had shared when they would willingly pull from one another, always at her urging.

She had told him once that he was a drug to her, and she was horribly addicted; but he was addicted to her too, and their withdrawal was nothing less than deadly. Their violent delights did have a violent end; he had always known it would.

He had tried to kill himself for her and he still couldn't understand how he had missed; perhaps fate had known that it wasn't time yet, and had kept him from succeeding so he could be here with her when she needed him most. He had only managed to barely scrape his heart as he thrust the stake into his own body; he had thought he had to die to save her, but it didn't matter, not now, when she was dying anyway.

He was unreservedly thankful that he wasn't dead, that he had been given a chance to see her one more time, to hear voice, to touch her skin.

He had prayed to any God that would listen that he would give anything for another minute with her, and he hated that his answer had come in the form of her impending death. He hadn't meant for this to happen, and he would forfeit every moment he was being blessed with now if it meant that she would live a long, healthy life.

That was all he had ever wanted for her. She had dreams, plans, and hopes for her future; and he had stolen it all away from her. Now she would never grow up, she would never have children, be married, grow old… it was all gone now.

He wouldn't have been able to give her children, but he would have married her in a heartbeat if she would have him. It wasn't something that vampires normally did when they already bound themselves for eternity, but she was human and that had been one of her dreams. It had been one of his dreams once too, although not for a very long time; not since before he had turned.

But he loved her, cherished her, and he would honor, keep, and obey her, in sickness and health, as long as he lived. He would say it every day; in front of anyone she wanted him to, any place she had wanted him to. He would wear a ring for her if that's what she wanted, letting the world see the claim she had on him. He would happily do all this and more…

She didn't know about the ring in his closet; they hadn't spent enough time at the boarding house together for her to find all his hidden objects yet. But it was there, in the safe behind the false backing, disguised by the boxes of retired designer shoes.

It had been his mother's and it bore the family crest, just very delicately. It was thin and unassuming, and between the diamonds and the lapis lazuli stone, a small E rose as the centerpiece. He had already had Bonnie spell it before the Sun and the Moon ritual, just in case things went wrong. She hadn't asked about the ring, she just sealed the spell and went back to trying to find a way to prevent Elena from needing it.

It would work as a daylight ring, but that's not what he had intended it to be, though he had told himself differently at the time. She hadn't been his to love yet, though he already did.

Stefan didn't know he even had the ring, and he had decided that he wouldn't tell him. His brother had always been closer to their father than their mother, but for him it had been the opposite. So Damon had slipped the ring from Evelyn's finger as he said his final goodbye to the woman that brought him into the world, and no one had ever noticed that it wasn't on her hand when they buried her.

He had told himself at the time of the sacrifice that if she turned, Stefan should, would, be the one to provide a ring for her; but he couldn't keep himself from being prepared in case his brother fell through or forgot in the mess of it all.

He would even let Stefan give her his mother's ring if he had to, although the idea crushed him. If she ever wore it, his most prized possession, he wanted to be the one that placed it on her finger.

But it hadn't happened; she hadn't turned and she hadn't needed the ring, so he had locked it away, hoping that one day he would find a reason to give it to her.

He had his reason now, but it was too late; she didn't want him anymore.

It had only been a few weeks since they had finally surrendered to their complicated love for one another and tried to start a new life together; but they had loved each other for much longer than that. They had already been through more than most couples faced in a lifetime, and it had all happened before he had ever even kissed her.

So now that he finally had her, it shouldn't surprise him or anyone else that he was ready to make any commitment she wanted him to; be it marriage or eternity, he was ready and willing.

Only, she wouldn't ask anything of him now; she was dying, and she hated him. It was almost hard to remember the reasons why she had been separated from him in the first place, why he had needed to be invited back into the house. He didn't want to remember what he had done, what he had said, what she had accused him of, and mostly, how he had lost her.

And now, as he held her hand against his skin, he was losing her all over again. He couldn't stop this, he couldn't fix this. She was dying because of him, because he hadn't been able to let her go.

He knew he should have relinquished her as soon as Stefan had left with Klaus, to let her live her life in peace without the presence of vampires. But he couldn't resist her, and hadn't been able to deny her request to stay with him when she had asked.

If only he had sent her home then, she wouldn't have been at the house when Klaus arrived; he wouldn't have found her. And he didn't know if Klaus would have still tried to kill him, but he told himself that he most likely wouldn't have done because of his odd obsession with his brother.

But he had let Elena stay and she had been found, and when he had tried to protect her, Klaus had come after him. He should have let Klaus kill him, he should have begged Katherine to let him die, and then none of this would have happened. As always, it was all his fault…

He wanted to take everything back; every time he had been impatient with her, yelled at her, cast her out and pushed her away. He wanted to erase his brief encounter with Isobel that had been their undoing; he had never loved her and had never claimed to. She had only ever wanted one thing from him and that was his blood to transition; but he had been strangely drawn to her, and now he knew why.

He could understand why Elena was disgusted with him, but he didn't place Isobel in any other category other than as being one of the many before Elena. He could deal with their connection, their relationship, the one that none of them had known existed before it was too late; he was already in love with Elena when he discovered her tie to Alaric's wife.

It had been hard to swallow the information, but he had gotten past it eventually, and he knew it wasn't fair to not give her the time to process it and come to accept it, if she could.

But he didn't have time, she didn't have time; she had hours, maybe minutes, possibly seconds, and then she would be gone, forever.

He wanted to give her blood to try to heal her; but he wouldn't do it without her consent, not now. There was a very real possibility that it wouldn't work and that she would still die, and he didn't know what would happen then. He didn't know if the spell would keep her from transitioning, or if she would, in fact, wake back up; but if she did come back, she would then be a vampire, forever…

What if she hated him for imposing that life on her; the life that she had never wanted, just so he wouldn't have to face the pain of losing her? What if she chose to spend her eternity without him; forcing him to walk the earth alone and knowing that she was out there, somewhere, where she wouldn't let him reach her?

Normally he wouldn't hesitate, he would give her the blood even if he had to make her drink it or trick her into swallowing it; he wouldn't think about it, he would just do it, consequences be damned. But the only thing acting like that had ever accomplished was to hurt her, and push her away from him.

He couldn't afford to be rash now; for the first time in his life he would think about his actions; because no matter what he ended up doing, they would affect her life, for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short it may be.

He still hadn't removed her hand from where it was resting against his cheek; he was content to just revel in the feeling of her heartbeat as it fluttered against him. He loathed that she was burning up with a fever that no one could control, and that it was causing her so much discomfort. He never wanted her to feel pain, and he would do what little he could to try to take it away.

He finally released her hand and placed it as gently as he could back on the bed; he didn't want to disturb her when she looked so serene. It only took a second for him to soak a washcloth in cold water from her bathroom and return to her; as he laid it against her forehead she shuddered, but her eyes never opened.

He turned it over after a minute to let the still cool side of the towel rest against her, but it was already warm all the way through from the heat it was absorbing from her.

"Caroline, bring me a bowl of ice water, please," he said quietly, but he knew she would hear him.

They didn't acknowledge one another as she entered and placed the bowl on the table by his side; but he felt her hand on his shoulder for only a moment before she left the room without a word.

He dipped the towel every few minutes to remove the heat it was trying, and failing, to take from her, as he continued to press it against her face, her arms, and her neck. He wanted to put her in a cold bath but he didn't know how she would feel if she woke in the process of him bathing her; and he didn't want to make her uncomfortable, not after everything that had happened. So he was resigned to do the little he could, though it would never be enough.

It was nearly impossible to keep himself from kissing her; he had missed her unbearably in the days they had spent apart. Their last one had been quick and light; a hurried good bye as she ran out the door at his request to visit with her friends.

But that couldn't be it, that couldn't be the final one; it hurt too much to think that with something as little as that one small kiss that it would be over, and that he would never taste her breath again.

He had been in awe at first at how much he treasured kissing her; how something that could be so sweet and innocent was the most intense, sensual, and intimate experience of his life. He should have known that it would always be that way with her; everything always was.

He worshipped her lips, and he knew he would never forget them; no matter how long he lived and even if she didn't. He would always know her mood by them alone; how her bottom one would protrude just the slightest bit when she pouted, as well as each and every one of her many different smiles, and what they all meant to him.

She was painfully dehydrated; he knew because those flawless doors-to-breath weren't as round and soft as he knew they should be. She needed water, desperately.

He filled a tumbler that she kept in her bathroom and returned to her, but this time he sat with her so she was barely sitting up as he leaned her back against him. He had been exceedingly careful as he moved her, and she still didn't wake.

He tilted her head back against his arm, running his thumb over her mouth with a slight tug so that it would part; her body responded to him exactly as he had wanted it to, it always had.

He raised the glass to her lips and let only a few drops fall; he was worried that she might choke or startle, and he didn't want to frighten her. But she only lay still, barely breathing, as he continued to give her the water she badly needed.

He was halfway through the glass when he knew he needed to cool her again; she never stopped burning. He was reaching over to the table so he could exchange the glass for the cloth when he felt her move.

"Damon?"

"I'm right here; I got you," he said softly, holding her closer to him.

"What are you doing here?" she mumbled, her voice rough; even though she was questioning his presence, she didn't hesitate to press herself closer to him with all of the little strength she had.

"I love you Elena; where else would I be?"

"But…I killed you; you're dead…"

"I'm alive Elena, and so are you; I'm right here, we're together, and this is real," he promised her.

"I don't feel good Damon," she whimpered against him, causing his heart to break under the weight of his guilt, and his inability to make her pain go away.

"I know sweetheart, I'm sorry; we're trying to make it better," he said looking at her gently.

"I'm dying," she breathed, sounding utterly defeated; and they both began to cry those always silent tears.

"Elena, please let me heal you; let me give you my blood. It might not save you, but…but this way you'll come back," he begged her, his voice breaking in his plea to let him save her, to let him keep her.

"I can't do that Damon," she said with the slightest shake of her head.

"Why?" he said, his voice catching in his throat. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"No," she sighed, trying to smile, "because I love you that much…"

"I don't understand; sweetheart, you're confused…"

"No Damon; I can't keep hurting you, I'm always hurting you, and I won't do that anymore…You've lost every person you've ever loved because of me, and that's not fair to you… So I have to let you go, let me save you…"

"No…"

"Make peace with Stefan," she told him, "he was always supposed to be the one who gets to spend eternity with you; not me. So I'm going to let you go, as much as I don't want to…and I need you to promise me that you'll do the same…"

"No Elena," he said forcefully but still quiet, "you're wrong. And I don't want to argue with you, not now, but you've never been more wrong about anything in your life. And that is one promise I won't make."

"Please Damon, promise me…" she whispered, her eyes closing against her will.

"No," he said louder, "I want you with me, forever…Hit me, hate me, I don't care…Just don't leave me…" he begged again, the tears flowing faster now.

"Don't make me do this, please…"

He could barely hear her; she was slipping from him…

"I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want Elena; it's your choice… But I'm begging you, please don't do this…"

"Do you love me, Damon?" she smiled at him, her eyes barely open.

"Yes, I love you," he said with every bit of conviction he could, "You are my life, and I will always love you; nothing will ever change that…"

"Then kiss me Damon…"

"What?" he gasped.

He couldn't believe what she was asking him to do, but he would never deny her anything.

"Kiss me, please…"

Very slowly, he leaned down and placed his mouth against hers. He tried to pour all of his love, all of his need for her, all his commitment, and all of his devotion, into the kiss that he knew would be their last. He didn't want it to end, he wanted to stay there forever; but he couldn't.

He felt her pull back from him all too soon and his soul shattered; he knew he had to release her, but it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He would always give her whatever she wanted, and anything she needed.

"Thank you," she breathed and her eyes closed again. "I love you Damon, remember that…"

"Stay with me, and tell me tomorrow," he whispered to her.

"It's time for you to go…" she said softly.

"What? I'm not leaving you…" he said, worried that she thought that he would ever leave her willingly.

"Please, I need you to go…" she pleaded with him.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Caroline, Stefan," she called a little louder than she had been speaking; summoning them to take him away from her.

"No, don't do this, please…" he cried.

Caroline and Stefan entered the room, both scared and destroyed at what they were going to have to do.

"Stefan," she said, telling his brother that it was time.

"No, I'm not going," he told her, and snapping to his brother, "and don't you fucking come near me!"

"Damon, it's what she wants," Stefan said gently, stepping closer to him.

"I don't care! I'm not leaving her!"

"Caroline, help me," she said sadly, turning away from him.

Damon didn't understand; why was she doing this to him? How could she do this?

Before he could even react, Caroline had her arms under her and was pulling her away from him…

He tried to hold on to her, refusing to let her be taken from him against his will…

But Stefan had grabbed his wrists and was locking his arms behind his back…

He couldn't get to her, he couldn't reach her…

He never stopped struggling to get back to her as Stefan wrestled him out of the room; his last sight of her being her looking away from him as Caroline placed her back in bed.

He couldn't break free from his brother's restrictive hold; he was too weak from his attempted suicide, and Stefan was too strong….

And it was done; she had been ripped from his arms and there had been nothing he could do to stop it…

He was pinned down on the floor in the living room, restrained by his brother and the man who claimed to be his best friend.

He was being kept from her, where he couldn't see her, hold her, soothe her, comfort her...

He was being forced to wait for her to die, alone.

And there was nothing left to do, but wait.

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**A/N: I really miss the days when I wasn't constantly crying writing this story :( But all of your reviews and kind thoughts make it soooooo much better!**

**Thank you for reading! (We're almost there guys, hang with me)**

**-Goldnox**


	18. My Broken Promise and Endless Lies

**A/N: Wow guys, you never cease to blow me away. Most. Incredible. Readers. EVER**

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"Thank you Caroline," Elena whispered through her tears and her friend set her back in her bed.

It wasn't coming fast enough; she couldn't take anymore.

His screams were as loud as if he was right beside her, and every one broke her, destroyed her, crushed her soul and ripped her heart from her chest.

He would never forgive her for this and she knew it. She had made him be dragged from her room, literally kicking and screaming, so she could die alone.

He would think that it was because she didn't love him, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

How could she not love him?

He was fortitude, he was strength; he was devotion, personified. He was brilliant and a little crazy, but he was _her_ brilliant and he was _her_ crazy.

How could she resist the man that made her feel like a goddess? His hand always on the small of her back, caressing her skin as he stood behind her; his whispers in the quiet that she was beautiful, she was sexy, she was life, and he was hers.

She could get lost in him forever, mesmerized by that way his hands would move as he talked about his passion for art and the importance of light. She loved the way he described what it was to fly; the rush of freedom and power that came with controlling danger, and how much he wanted to share it with her.

He wanted to give her everything; he had said it time and time again. But he had already given her the world, because he was it for her.

She cherished every moment that he spent with her in silence, content to let his peace say all that she already knew. She ached to make him feel as adored as she always felt, and he was happy to let her love him in any way she pleased.

He would let her run her fingers through his hair as he stretched out on the couch with his head resting in her lap; the book in his hands quickly closing as he drifted off to sleep. He was beautiful, and she was in awe of him when he let the world slip away; she could stare at his skin for hours and always need more time.

She knew that for however long that she was lucky enough to keep him, that it would never be enough; she would always continue to want for more.

And she did want more; she wanted it all. The life that they had begun to build had been everything she had ever wanted; it was everything she had dreamed of when she imagined what a marriage should be, and the man that would claim her. He was her dream, in reality.

He made her feel like she was the only person in the world when he would look into her eyes; and he could make time disappear with even the smallest kiss. He took her mouth like she was breath, inhaling her with a need that should have scared her, but never did; she understood, because he was her breath too.

And when he touched her she felt precious, like he had found the world's most secret and prized possession, and it was all his to enjoy. He spent days learning her body, feeling every inch of her and always searching for any place he might have missed.

He would make her lie still as he reveled in her; and though she was bare as his lips touched her, it was only ever about his overwhelming love for her. He would talk into her skin, whispering secrets and promises that she only sometimes heard. She didn't need to hear them, she could feel them; he was sealing them inside her soul where they could never escape.

He had taken her for his own, but she didn't feel lost. He had given her himself in return, and she knew she didn't need to exist as long as he was hers to love.

She was addicted to him in the worst and best of ways, and made sure to tell him so. Every time he pulled back from a hug she would only cling to him harder. If there was space between them she would banish it; distance was excruciating.

She would wrap herself around him all of her strength, holding on for dear life in case he disappeared. Because he couldn't be real, he was too good to be true; and she never felt like she deserved him.

And he wasn't perfect, but his flaws were what defined his perfection. He was obsessive, compulsive, impatient, and he had a temper that could cripple you with fear. He fought with her, because he was constantly fighting for her. He never stopped waging war until she would stand for herself.

He was still battling; his screams were telling her that. But she didn't want to fight for herself; she wanted to fight for him. She wanted to save him, to spare him the pain, so that's what she had done. She didn't want to hurt him anymore, so she had made him leave.

She didn't want this for him; she wouldn't let him watch her die. She didn't want him to be tempted to save her; she didn't know how he had resisted while she had slept. And she didn't trust herself in the final moments not to ask him to.

She was scared to leave him, and she was scared to die. She wanted him with her, she needed him, because he was her courage, and she couldn't do this alone.

From the moment that she had made his brother drag him away from her, she had wanted to call out to him, yell that she was sorry, that she loved him; but she couldn't, not when she was so close to never being able to hurt him again. And he had made her strong enough to keep from calling his name.

It was killing her to leave him behind, to make herself let go. She had done a brilliant and successful job of convincing herself that he had been dead, that she had actually killed him. So much so that she thought he was a dream when she heard his voice drifting to her.

She was convinced it was the fever making her see things, feel things, that weren't really there; because she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was dead.

But he wasn't dead; he was alive, and he had come for her. She couldn't believe that he would still hold her, comfort her, tell her he loved her, after all that she had done.

She was angry about Isobel, but it wasn't worth losing him forever. It deeply unsettled her, and she hated that he hadn't told her; but it wasn't because he was trying to deceive her. He just hadn't thought about it.

He never seemed to think about anything; he just acted and reacted, the consequences be damned. She loved and hated this about him, probably with equal measure. He was fearless, and he was brave; but there were always consequences to everything and she usually paid the price.

But they were both suffering now, and that was all her fault; he hadn't thought, but she had thought too much. She had tortured herself with images that didn't matter and ideas that weren't true. She had felt shocked and betrayed, and had been irrational in her accusations of him and she knew it.

She had tried to convince herself that he didn't love her; that he was nothing but a twisted demon that had used her to get back at his brother, to add another name to his endless list; but she had lied. She was always lying, because that's what she did.

She wanted to have it branded on her face so people would see it and run. She had lied about her love for him to herself and everyone she knew. She had lied forever, only coming to the truth once she had pushed him to the brink of his sanity and on to the precipice of death. Then she had just kept pushing.

How many times had she told him to leave her alone, to get out of her life, that she never wanted to see him again and that he had finally lost her forever? All lies; lies upon endless lies.

She couldn't stay away, she couldn't cut him out; it was impossible. And even when she would run from him she always wanted to go back; and she knew she always would.

They were stuck in a vicious circle, and there was only one way out; someone would have to die. She was so eternally thankful that this burden had fallen on her, and not him. She couldn't stand the thought of him in pain, it made her physically sick. But she just kept on hurting him; she was always hurting him…

She had caused a rift between him and his brother. Their relationship had been strained before, but it was trying to heal. And all she had done was to strip every bandage and pour acid on the wound, smiling innocently the whole damn time like she wasn't even doing it. She hated herself for what she had done to them, over and over again.

It was her fault that Stefan had left with Klaus, and she knew it. If she had just been stronger, braver, she would have just died or accepted the prospect of vampirism; everything would have been fine. But she had whined, cried, and thrown and fit like the child she continuously acted like, and it had all gone to hell.

She pushed him, smothered him with guilt about things that weren't his fault. She drove him to the point that he put himself of the path of a werewolf and got himself bitten. Stefan was forced to fix her mistake by handing himself over to Klaus, as payment for the hybrid's blood that was used to save his brother.

Her fault; all her fault…

And how many people had Stefan been forced to kill in service to the Original? All that blood was on her hands, all because of her fear.

Her fear had cost him Katherine, too. She had been terrified when Klaus had threatened to use her as bait; but she should have been happy about it and willing to do what it took. He wasn't threatening to hurt her, just to use her to lure Stefan back; and he had been what she thought she had wanted at the time.

She should have said "please" and "thank you" to the beast that had stood before her; but instead, she had only trembled in fright.

And once again, Damon had felt obligated to save her and put himself in harm's way, seconds from certain death; but Katherine had arrived to save him, sacrificing herself, for him. Her fear had caused him to watch the woman he had loved for over 150 years die in his arms, with him powerless to stop it.

He may not have still been in love with her doppelganger, but she knew a part of him would always love her, and she had stolen her from him. He should have hated her for being the reason that Katherine was dead, for being why he was forced to bury her; but he didn't.

He should have hated her for so many things, but he never failed to forgive her, and she didn't understand why.

But he would hate her for this; and he thought she hated him. She had tried to tell him that she loved him, and she prayed that he believed it; but he had looked so betrayed as he was being dragged away, and she knew that he wouldn't have been able to just let her die. He loved her too much.

She knew he loved her, she had never doubted it but once; and when she did, she knew she had been a fool. How could she ever question him? Look at what he did, had done, for her; look at all that he had endured. And he had never once asked for an apology from her, for _anything; _the only thing he ever asked for was honesty.

In all the times that she had yelled at him, hit him, accused him, and tried to hurt him, he had never done anything but borne it all. All of her lies upon lies.

She had promised and sworn that she would never leave him, that he would never lose her, that she would always choose him; but she had lied. She was choosing death over him, because she was a coward.

She was terrified of hurting him, but she was even more afraid of how much she needed him. She cared for him more than life, enough that she was willing to die to try to save him from her. She needed him to a point that it wasn't fair to place that kind of a hold on him; to burden him with such a constraining lock.

Because she would do anything he asked her to; she would follow him anywhere, she would kill for him if she had to. And that's what it would take; she had to let herself die.

* * *

"Can I get you anything Elena? Do you want me to get Jeremy?" Caroline asked as she tucked her in.

"Not yet; but I need you to do something for me…"

Every word was torture, her body was ready to give up; but she had to get this out before it was too late.

"Anything…" Caroline sighed, tears beginning to fall again.

"You have to take care of him," she pleaded with her friend, "Protect him from himself; please…"

"Elena," Caroline said defeated, taking her friend's hand in hers, "the only person that can do that is you. I'm not strong enough; I'm not what he needs…"

"You are strong enough," Elena told her with faith, "I trust you."

"No, I'm not," Caroline cried harder, "I almost failed once already; I don't know if I can stop him again…"

"What do you mean?" Elena asked, suddenly worried.

"He…he tried to kill himself tonight…" Caroline confessed.

She didn't want to upset her dying friend, to steal her peace; but she wouldn't be anything but honest with her, and she hoped that it would convince her to change her mind.

"There was a stake in his chest when I found him tonight…I don't know how he missed his heart, Elena; he should have been dead…"

"No…" Elena cried, panicked. "You can't let him die; he has to live," she said with all her strength.

"You're the only one that can save him…"

"I know; and that's what I'm trying to do. I can't do this…I can't hurt him anymore…"

"The only way you'll hurt him, hurt us, is if you leave. You have to fight Elena; if you love him, you'll fight for him," she begged her.

"I am fighting for him."

Frustrated and spent, Caroline snapped at her, "No, you're not; you're giving up. And you know he won't live without you. So either you both live forever, or you both die. That's the only way."

"No…" Elena said softly, closing her eyes.

She was so close, she was almost there…

"It is Elena; and it's your choice. But you know in your heart that he doesn't deserve this…No matter what he's done, what he's said, he doesn't deserve to lose you and he doesn't deserve to die…"

* * *

"Get the fuck off me!" he screamed, belligerent and hysterical, and crying angry tears.

He was still being held down, forced to wait with his brother's knee in his back and his arms twisted at a sick angle.

He could hear Bonnie hiding in the kitchen, mumbling in what sounded like Latin while still desperately trying to find a way to break through. Jeremy was on the couch with Ric, both with their heads in their hands as the time ticked by, each second bringing them closer to the end of the world.

"No brother," Stefan said softly, tightening his grip and making Damon wince in pain.

"You're letting her die!"

"It's what she wants; it's her choice," he told him gently.

"No!"

"It is," his brother said stronger, "and you won't take that away from her; I won't let you."

"What the fuck do you even care?! You've already tried to kill her once!" he screamed, still trying, and failing, to break Stefan's captive hold.

"I don't want her to die brother, but I love her enough to respect her decision, and you need to try to, too…"

"Fuck you! Don't tell me you love her! If you loved her, you wouldn't let her die!"

"Damon, calm down…" Stefan said, beginning to struggle to keep his control over him.

"No! You have to let me save her!"

"No brother; and I don't want to break your neck but I will if you don't stop fighting me," he said through his teeth, he was losing the battle to restrain him, and fast.

"You're not my brother! You're fucking dead to me! And if she dies, I'll rip your God-damn heart out!"

He was getting stronger by the second; Stefan wouldn't be able to hold him much longer…

If they had been smart or serious about keeping him down they would have vervained him, but they didn't….

And they had all signed their death warrants for daring to keep him from her.

Even over his own yelling, he could hear them talking upstairs. Caroline was begging her to live for him, but she was resisting.

Caroline had said that he didn't deserve to die, but Elena hadn't said anything, she had just stayed quiet for a full minute, but her heart was still beating.

"Can I see Jeremy?" he heard her say softly; he could barely make out her voice, she sounded so far away.

It would only take another minute at most, and he would be free; he would get to her, save her, he didn't care anymore what she wanted. He wouldn't let her do this; and he would have an eternity to make it up to her.

"Jeremy, she asked to see you," Caroline said softly as she closed Elena's door and began to come down the stairs.

She was wiping at her face; she had obviously been crying.

They were all crying; and it felt like they had been for years.

_Damn it, she's alone in that room; she's scared, and that blonde bitch left her alone…_

Jeremy stood from the couch to go to his sister as she had wanted, and the universe imploded.

The sky turned red with blood and the oceans dried to ash.

The sun faded to the deepest black and all the light was sucked from the world.

Her heart had stopped beating with a single, final thud.

The humans hadn't heard it when the world cracked open, spewing demons to claim the earth; but they knew the moment that it had happened. All three vampires' heads snapped in shock, staring towards her room in unfiltered horror.

Stefan's alarm betrayed him, and Damon was instantly free. He didn't hear his brother's body hit the floor after he broke his neck.

He did the same to Caroline as he passed her on the stairs; she had kept Elena from him, and now it was too late.

Time stopped when he entered her room.

He didn't know how long he stood there after he ripped open her door, but it felt endless once he saw her.

This wasn't real; this couldn't happen…

He must have died when staked himself; he must be in hell…

Because she was life, she was breath; and if she wasn't here, then he must be dead. There wasn't life without her…

But he wasn't dead; he was alive…

And Elena was gone, forever.

* * *

**A/N: So, one day I will try to not constantly bawl as I write... I swear, Damon has been haunting me about these last two chapters. I'm literally having nightmares about him being pinned to the floor and screaming at ME for this crap, and it's ALL Elena's fault; I never meant for that to happen but she woudn't take no for an answer. Promise. (I've offically gone crazy...)**

**But I can't thank you all enough for the endless support. Please continue to r/r, even if you hate me for what I'm putting them through; 'cause I love all you guys and I'm sorry :( **

**Keep hanging my lovelies; we're not done yet...but we're tantalizingly close...**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Goldnox**


	19. The Slowest Sunrise

**A/N: You are all amazing, and I hope you know that. This is the last official chapter, it's crazy long but I couldn't bear to split it so get ready for a long haul, and it is to be followed by an epilogue that I will try to post asap. Thank you all endlessly for reading, and for staying with me through this incredible journey. Enjoy!**

**-Goldnox**

* * *

She was dead.

She couldn't be dead…

But she was dead.

Gone.

Lost.

Forever.

Dead.

He stood still.

There was nothing else to do.

She was where he couldn't reach her.

She had left him behind.

He was alone.

She was dead.

No.

She can't die.

"Elena?" he whispered, but he didn't know how.

He couldn't move.

He couldn't think.

He couldn't feel.

He couldn't breathe.

She didn't answer.

"Elena?" he said louder.

She would wake up.

She had to wake up.

He made himself move.

He walked to her bed, the furthest six steps he had ever crossed, and sat beside her, taking her hand.

He felt for her pulse.

There was none.

He already knew what he would find; her heart wasn't beating.

"Elena," he said forcefully.

Her skin wasn't burning as much anymore.

Her head was turned away from him; gently, he placed his hand on her cheek and made her face him.

Her eyes were closed; the tears she had been crying had already begun to dry.

"Elena, look at me…" he said softly.

She was still.

"Elena, open your eyes, and look at me…" he said slowly.

There was no movement.

"Sweetheart, wake up," he begged her.

Silence.

"No," he shook his head at her, "you are _not_ dead."

"Damon…" Alaric said behind him.

"Damn it Elena, wake up! Open your eyes!" he screamed at her.

"Damon, she's gone," Alaric choked out, his voice breaking.

"No…she's not," he growled at him.

"Damon…"

"Bonnie!" he screamed for her.

"I'm here Damon," she whispered behind him.

"Fix her; bring her back," he said though he was still looking at Elena's still body, still waiting for her eyes to open.

"I can't do that…"

"The fuck you can't!" he yelled, and she was pinned to the wall with his hands around her throat. "You brought _him_ back; now do it!"

"Damon, let go of her!" Alaric yelled, pulling against his arm.

"No! She has to fix this!" He roared. "Do it Bonnie! Do it now!"

"I can't Damon, I can't…" she sputtered at him, unable to breathe.

"Damon, let her go! You're killing her!"

"I don't care!"

"Killing Bonnie won't bring her back! Let her go!"

"No!" he screamed, but he released her and rushed back to Elena's lifeless body.

He tore into his wrist and lifted it to her closed mouth.

"Elena, drink," he pleaded softly.

But there was nothing; no tug, no pull, and the wound was closing. He bit himself again.

"Drink, Elena!"

"Damon, stop…" Alaric begged him. "She's gone…it's too late…"

"No," he spat at him, "I can fix this; I have to fix this…"

He re-opened that gash a third time, pressing it harder to her lips as he held them open so the blood could find its way in.

But she wasn't moving; she wasn't drinking. She was just still.

"No," he whimpered, "You can't die…you can't die…"

"Bonnie, take Jeremy downstairs," Alaric whispered, "Check on Caroline and Stefan…"

"No," Jeremy said from where he was collapsed in the corner, crying. "I'm not leaving."

"Please Elena, wake up," Damon continued.

"Jeremy," Alaric said gently, "She's gone. You don't need to see this…"

Damon barely registered the sound of Bonnie and Jeremy leaving the room.

"I'm sorry Elena, I'm sorry; just come back," he whispered. "You can't leave me," he breathed as he caressed her face.

"Damon, you have to let her go…"

"No…I can't," he said, his voice breaking on the final word.

"It's over," he told him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He threw it off violently.

"No, it's not over; she's not dead…"

Alaric backed away, sinking down to the floor as he slid against the wall.

"Open your eyes Elena," he began again.

He begged her, yelled at her, to wake up and look at him. He pleaded with her for ten minutes before he stopped.

"Okay," he whispered shakily to himself, his voice raw from his tears and screams, "Okay, I can fix this…I'm going to make this better…"

Alaric just continued to sit on the floor with his head hidden in his hands, unable to watch what was happening.

"Come here sweetheart; I got you," he said to her as he scooped her limp body into his arms, just as he had done countless times before.

"Damon, what are you doing?" Alaric asked, scared and confused as he watched him pull her from her bed.

"What I have to do…"

"No Damon," Alaric panicked.

He didn't respond, but continued on his way out of her room and down the stairs.

Caroline's body was on the couch where they must have put her; Stefan was still crumpled on the floor. They were the only ones that would have stood a chance at stopping him, and they wouldn't wake in time to do it.

"What are you doing with her?!" Jeremy yelled from his seat in the kitchen when he saw Damon pass.

"Jeremy, let him go," Bonnie urged him.

"No! You're not taking my sister!" he screamed, rushing at Damon.

He didn't turn, he didn't care; no one would stop him from being with her ever again.

"Jeremy, just let him go," Alaric said as he held her brother back. "It's okay…just let him go…"

He stopped when he was outside; he didn't want to let her go, but they could track him if he walked with her. He would have to drive to get them where they needed to go; at least it wasn't far.

He shifted her so could open the door, and as carefully as he could, slid her inside and shut the door.

He sat in the driver's seat, finding the keys in the ignition. Caroline must have left them there in their hurry to get inside the house before…

He barely looked at the road as he drove them from the house; he couldn't think about anything except that it would all be over soon.

He didn't have any trouble maneuvering the car through the overgrown trees and down the gravel path; he had been there a thousand times before, though not in over a hundred years.

He stopped the car when he reached the brick pillars; he was close enough now, and it was almost over.

They would look for him, he knew; Stefan would be worried, but he didn't care. This was his brother's fault and he was lucky he had only suffered a broken neck and nothing worse; he had let her die, he had kept him from her where he couldn't save her. He didn't care about Stefan, he wasn't his brother anymore and soon he would be alone.

They wouldn't find them here. They would go to the boarding house, the Falls, and the quarry. They might even check Wickery Bridge, but they wouldn't come here; because there was nothing here, not anymore.

The house that he had shared with her in their dreams was long since gone. Burned, destroyed, only ruins left. It was perfect; the ideal place for it to end, because this was where it had all began.

She loved it here, she was always asking to come back, and he never denied her what she wanted. They had spent hours upon hours lounging in the lawn, talking about the life that he'd had and lost. She would ask him endless questions, and sometimes he couldn't help but laugh at the things she wanted to know; but he always answered honestly. He never wanted to hide anything from her.

He had spent so much time being guarded and never showing who he really was behind the fangs, but she had seen right through him. She had broken down every one of his impenetrable walls with her smile alone.

It had scared him horribly at first to show her his true self, he didn't know how she would feel about what she found; he didn't know how _he_ would feel about what she found. But she accepted him for everything he was and wasn't, and always asked for more.

The more he gave her of himself, the more he wanted to give; and it wasn't long before he couldn't remember why he had ever hid from her in the first place. There was such comfort in being able to be yourself, all the good and the bad, and to know that you didn't have to worry about what you were saying and how things looked. You could just, be.

He had finally found honesty and peace in his trust of her, and she just kept asking for more.

It was always _more_ with her, and it was one of the things he loved most about her. She was just like him; she had an appetite for life that couldn't be sated. It was always one more kiss, one more hug, five more minutes in the tub and ten more minutes of sleep. She could never get enough of anything, and it seemed she couldn't get enough of him.

He had never felt more loved, more appreciated, more respected by anyone in his life. She looked at him like he had created the universe and held the keys to it in his hand. She made him feel confident, worthy, like he might actually deserve her; he didn't agree, but she was insistent. She thought the world of him, and that he _was_ the world.

It was hard to be put on pedestal; he had never realized that it would be, because he had never been placed so high before. But he soon realized that he had the power to disappoint her, and he knew he couldn't live with himself if he ever did.

He wanted to be the man that she thought of him as; he wanted to be strong for her, brilliant, and brave. But it was hard, much harder than he ever thought it would be.

He was scared all the time; scared of things he knew better than to fear because she told him, promised him, that he didn't have to be afraid anymore. But he was still scared anyways, and that made him an idiot.

She thought he was smart, but smart people thought about their actions and their words; and he was constantly hurting her because he never thought. He didn't think about what it meant when she heard him say he wouldn't apologize for Isobel, and he hadn't thought when he had brought the bracelet with him to her house.

He never claimed to be perfect and he told her that often, but she knew all of his flaws and she loved him regardless. She swore repeatedly that she didn't love him in spite of those things, but because of them; the worst things about him were what made him seem perfect to her. He had thought she was crazy, but he understood, because he had felt the same.

She was stubborn to a fault and it drove him insane. But he only ever wanted two things for her: to be honest and to fight for herself; and she never did that more than when she was rooted in whatever decision she was violently clinging to. He had never seen such strength of conviction, and he was honored that she was like that when she talked about her feelings for him.

She wouldn't listen to "reason" from her friends or her family about the "mistake" she was making by being with him; he was what she wanted and they could deal or get out. He didn't want to be the reason behind stress in her relationships, he didn't want to put her in that position; but she was convinced that what they were doing was right and everyone's worries were their own problems, because she knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

She should have been scared of him, but she wasn't. He would never purposely hurt her and would do anything and everything in his power to keep her from harm; but he could have crushed her physically and emotionally if he had wanted to, and they both knew it.

But she trusted him like no one ever had before. She believed the best in him and would push his level of comfort just to prove it. She had done it the first time she had asked him to drink from her, make love to her, to dream with her; she kept putting herself in his care to do with as he wished. She gave herself to him completely, and the more he had, the more he wanted.

He needed her, and more than he should; enough that he wasn't prepared to live without her, because he didn't know how anymore. He didn't know how to sleep if she wasn't beside him, he couldn't talk if she wasn't the one listening, he couldn't do anything without her.

And now she was gone, forever.

* * *

"Did you find him?" Stefan asked as he entered the house, his voice panic stricken.

It had been one of the longest nights of his life; first the call from Bonnie about Elena's deteriorating health, telling him to hurry because she could go at any second. He had arrived in time to see her, to try to tell her what he had needed to say, but she had barely been conscious when he told her that he still loved her, and that he was sorry.

She had thought he was a dream, that he wouldn't really be there, because she thought he hated her; but he hoped that some small part of her recognized the truth in his words.

Then she had died, and Damon had killed him.

He didn't blame his brother for snapping his neck, he was just thankful that his heart was still in his chest after dragging him away from her and forcing him to let her die.

It had broken his heart to do it, but he knew the guilt that came with forcing someone to turn against their will, and he didn't want that for Damon. He had tried to save him from that, but now his brother was lost and they couldn't find him, and he didn't know if he would be able to save him from this.

Both he and Caroline had awoken in a nightmare; Jeremy was hysterical at the loss of his sister and that Damon had stolen her body. Alaric was worried that Damon might try to kill himself after how he had reacted to Elena's death, and the words that had come from him.

It only made things worse when Caroline confessed that he had already tried to stake himself that night only moments before she had found him and brought him to the house. He was out of control, grief stricken, and he wasn't thinking; Stefan knew without a doubt that after losing his beloved, he would most certainly try again.

He was sure that if Damon had already tried and failed to die by a stake, that he wouldn't go that route again; he wouldn't chance another miss. So he would do the only other thing that was guaranteed to work; he would wait for dawn, and it was almost there.

"He wasn't at the boarding house," Caroline said in a rush. "And Alaric called; he's not at the quarry."

"He wasn't at the Falls," he told her, his heart sinking.

He didn't know what to do; he couldn't find him. He knew his brother better than anybody, and he couldn't figure out where he would go to die. There were few places in this town that had meant anything to Damon, and most of them held more bad memories than good.

"We have to find him Stefan, before it's too late," she cried.

"I know Caroline; I just don't know where else he would go. What about Bonnie? Has she found anything?"

"No, the locator spell won't work because…she's gone. And she thought it would work for him, but either what she has isn't personal enough or it doesn't work on vampires. Or…he's…"

"No; don't say it. He's out there somewhere; I just have to find him."

"Are you sure he's going to wait until sunrise?"

"I want to be…"

"Try the bridge," Jeremy mumbled.

"What?"

"Wickery Bridge; it's where our parents died, where she was supposed to die the first time. He may have taken her there…"

"Thank you Jeremy," Stefan said, truly grateful.

Why hadn't he thought of that before? He should have; Damon would only be thinking about a place that mattered to Elena, because he was only ever concerned about her. And no place in the whole town meant something more to her than the place where she had lost her family.

He ran from the house full of hope, knowing that he would find him there; that he would save his brother.

* * *

"Come here sweetheart," he whispered as he opened the door and carried her from the car.

He didn't bother to shut the door after he had her in his arms; it didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore because she wouldn't wake up ever again.

He walked her to the small clearing that was where his room once had been, although it would have been a floor above them. He lowered them to the ground as carefully as he could, one knee at a time while he held her to his chest.

He cradled her against him, slowly brushing the hair off her face that the wind was sweeping forward. Her skin was cool already, and he hated that the fever that had consumed her so rapidly had slunk away so fast as soon as it's job was done. He didn't want her to burn like she had before, but he ached for the warmth that was produced by a healthy, beating heart.

The breeze was cold against his skin, although it didn't bother him; nothing could hurt him now. But she was only wearing a light blue camisole and a pair of striped pajama shorts, and he didn't want her to be cold even though she couldn't feel.

He laid her on the grass so he could remove his shirt; and once he had it off, he picked her up again and wrapped it around her shoulders. She had always preferred to wear his clothes and he had adored the way they looked on her; with the sleeves too long and loose and the collar flirting with her jaw. She didn't know he noticed, but he always saw the way she would inhale his scent that was on them while she pretended to adjust it around her.

"There, that's better," he whispered to her sweetly once he had her robed; he knew she wouldn't answer back but he wanted to talk to her anyway.

"I'm sorry it's so cold," he sniffled, "I didn't think to bring you a jacket…but the sun will be up soon, and then it will all be over. We'll be together again, I promise…"

He rocked her slowly, trembling under the weight of his devastating grief, and fresh tears began to fall.

He didn't hesitate to lean down to her, and tilting her chin up to him, he placed his lips on hers; his heart was screaming for her to move, to respond to him, but she was still in his arms.

"I'm so sorry Elena; I never meant for this to happen…I never meant for you to die…

"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to save you; I tried Elena, I did…but I just couldn't do it…

"I failed you…

"I was supposed to protect you, to keep you safe…

"I love you Elena…

"Why didn't you let me save you?

"Why did you leave me?

"I can't do this without you…

"I won't do this without you…

"I need you with me, please come back to me…

"I'll try harder, I'll do better; just please come back…

"I'll do anything you want me to do, just open your eyes sweetheart…

"I'm sorry for everything, so sorry…

"I shouldn't have pushed you to this; you didn't have to do this…

"I know you think you were trying to save me, but you had already saved me by letting me love you…

"I miss you…

"Please forgive me Elena…

"I've done so many things to hurt you, but I only ever wanted your happiness…

"I'm so sorry for every time I yelled at you, or was impatient with you; none of that was ever your fault…

"It's all my fault…

"You have to know, that no matter how long I loved her, it would never compare to how much I love you…and I'm so sorry if I ever made you feel any different…

"And I'm sorry about Isobel; I should have told you…I should have known that it would matter…

"I'm sorry that I've hurt everyone you've ever loved: Jeremy, Bonnie, Caroline, Alaric…

"I'd take it all back if I could, if you would just open your eyes…

"I'm so sorry that you felt you had to do this…

"Why did you have to do this?

"Why did you think this was necessary; you should have talked to me first…

"I know you hate me, but I thought you loved me…

"I thought you understood that I could never live without you…

"I should have told you more…

"I shouldn't have made you feel this way…

"You should have known how much I loved you…

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't good enough, that I let you down…

"I never wanted to disappoint you…

"I wish you hadn't made me leave…

"And I'm not mad, I understand; this is the one thing I never would have been able to give you, no matter how much you had wanted it…

"But why did you want this? Why did you want to leave me…

"I know I don't deserve you, but you don't deserve this…

"You should be here with me…

"But I'm going to make this better; the sun will be up soon, and then we'll be together again…we'll be home…

"We're home Elena, I brought you home…

"I know you can't see it, but we're at the house, our house…

"And it's not here anymore, but we'll always have it in our dreams…

"And maybe it'll be here once we're together again…

"We can stay here forever, if you want…

"I would have rebuilt it for you, if that's what you had wanted…

"We could have lived here, just you and me, forever…

"I would have married you Elena, I wanted to…

"I should have told you that…

"Your ring is in my closet, it's waiting for you…

"I should have given it to you, I shouldn't have waited…

"I'm so sorry sweetheart…

"But it's almost here, it's almost time…

"I hope you'll forgive me for this…

"I love you…" he said, and slipped his own ring from his hand, sliding it onto hers where his mother's should have been.

Daylight was minutes away, but it wasn't coming fast enough; it was the slowest sunrise he had ever known.

While he waited, he couldn't deny himself one final kiss; he didn't want to leave this world without feeling her lips again.

He pulled her tighter to him and hugged her with all his might, letting his arms take their fill in the feeling of completeness with her wrapped in them; it was where she had belonged. And when he would normally pull away, he held her tighter still, because she always did the same to him; she had always wanted, needed, more.

He didn't want to let her go, but he wanted to kiss her before it was too late; it would be any moment that gracious and beautiful death would begin to filter down through the trees. With difficulty, he loosened his grip on her just enough so he could see her face.

She looked so peaceful, so serene, so lovely that he wanted to stay there and look at her forever; but there wasn't time and she wouldn't last, so he did as he had waited for.

He felt the first rays of light peek through and touch him when he placed his mouth on hers, and he tried to ignore the pain that was starting and to lose himself in her. He wanted her to move, to kiss him back, so much so that he almost thought she did; but she couldn't, because she was gone.

The heat was coming faster now, the pain burning through him just like it had done for her.

He couldn't help it when his head whipped back in torture so he could release the scream that had been building in him; and as it crossed his lips and he heard himself cry out, the most glorious sound rushed over him.

She gasped.

He couldn't believe his eyes; hers were open…

She had woken up; she had come back to him…

And he was burning, seconds from being engulfed…

"Damon? Oh my God, Damon!" she screamed as she realized what was happening.

He wanted to cry for joy, to touch her and know that she was real…

But the pain was too much, and he couldn't find his voice…

"Damon, where's your ring?!" She screamed at him.

"Hand…" he somehow managed to choke out.

"No, it's not!" She yelled crying; and grasping at his hands to check them, she found it on her own.

She ripped it off her easily as it was far too big for her, and placed it on his finger in the same spot where she had been wearing it.

As soon as the metal met his skin the spell began to work, and she watched with unspeakable relief as he healed before her eyes.

"Elena?" he gasped once he could find the words.

"What were you thinking?! You could have died!" She screamed at him, tears raging down her cheeks as she gripped his face with surprising strength.

"You…" he whispered, still in absolute shock.

"You are not allowed to die, ever! Do you understand me?!"

"Elena…"

"Why didn't you wait for me?!"

"Elena, stop," he quietly begged her, finding it almost impossible to breathe as his eyes took her in.

He was trying and failing to make sense of the miracle before him. With the lightest touch he felt her skin as he cupped her face, and he was surprised that it wasn't as warm as it should be; he listened for her heartbeat, but it wasn't there, he couldn't find it…

Yet she was there, alive, fire burning in her eyes as she cried angry tears; clinging to him and yelling at him like she hadn't been dead just moments before.

He couldn't believe she was in front of him, that he could see her eyes, hear her voice; he had lost it all, he had lost her…

And somehow, she had come back to him.

"Damon, what? Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong?" she asked, sounding horribly worried.

"Elena," he gasped, "you're alive!" he exclaimed, crying in relief and exhilaration.

"Damon, I…"

He didn't know what she was going to say because he hadn't waited to hear; he had pulled her against him with all his strength and crushed his lips to hers. He thought he might faint when he felt her move against him; he had thought he would never feel it again.

She kissed him back passionately as he breathed her in, relishing in all the things he had thought were gone forever. He didn't know how long they stayed there and he didn't care; whatever it was, it wasn't long enough.

"Damon, wait…" she said, gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry," he whispered happily, placing another light kiss on her. "It's just…you were _dead_; you _died,_ Elena…"

"I know," she said sadly. "Damon, I'm…"

"You're in transition," he realized soberly, and she nodded. "But, how? You didn't…"

"I did," she confessed.

"How? When?"

"Caroline, after you left; she didn't tell you?"

"I…"

"You killed her, didn't you," she said softly with understanding.

"I'm sorry Elena, and she'll be okay…I'm so sorry, I just…I didn't think, I couldn't think…you were _dead_, and she had taken you from me…"

"It's okay," she assured him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before as she locked her arms around his neck. "I understand, and it's all going to be okay; we're okay…"

He could have held her forever, and he realized that he could now if he wanted; she was in transition, she was turning…

His heart shattered when he realized what he was going to have to do, what he was going to have to say; he couldn't handle losing her again, but he had to tell her, to make sure she understood.

"Elena," he said seriously, releasing her so he could see her eyes. "I need to you listen to me now…" She nodded at him, so he continued, "I love you," he said with all his devotion.

"And I love you…"

"But you don't have to complete the transition if you don't want to, and I won't make you; this is your choice…"

"What?" she asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

"I want you with me, but you never wanted this, and I never wanted this for you…"

"Damon, I was going to turn anyways, it was only a matter of time; I hadn't told you but I had already decided…"

"What? When did you decide this?"

"That night, when I was coming home from Bonnie's; that's when I knew…"

"Then…why…"

"I'm so sorry Damon; I was trying to protect you from me. I never wanted to hurt you, and I thought it was the only way so I couldn't hurt you again… But I wasn't strong enough, I couldn't leave you, I couldn't do it…"

"Sweetheart, you were strong enough to fight for what you wanted; to fight for us…" he tried to reassure her.

"I should have let you save me," she cried.

"Elena, that is not something I want you to apologize for, ever; you are here and that is the only thing that matters…"

"I love you Damon," she smiled at him through her tears.

"As I love you," he beamed at her.

"And I'm going to do this," she said with certainty, "I won't break my promise again, I swear; I will never leave you. And if turning is what it takes, then that's what I'll do, because I want to be with you, forever…"

"Are you sure that's what you really want?" he asked her quietly.

"Yes."

"Then, forever it is," he smiled, and kissed her again.

* * *

**A/N: So I hope you enjoyed it, and I'd love to hear what you think about everything from the twists and the surprises to the emotion and many near deaths, from beginning to end. I hope I've been able to satisfy every single want and hope, catch you off guard, and maybe even make you hate me at times for what I put them through; and mostly, I thank you for crying and laughing with me through this fast and crazy journey. Please r/r, and stay tuned for the as promised epilogue.**

**-Goldnox**


	20. Epilogue

**A/N: And here it is... Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

It had been the happiest and hardest two years of his life. Things weren't perfect, they never were and he didn't expect them to be; but she was still with him, and in the end, that was all that had mattered.

It had taken months for his nightmares to stop; he would wake up screaming and crying that she couldn't be there because she was still gone. But she had woken up, she had come back to him, and she was always right beside him when he woke from his torturous dreams.

She had transitioned, and was now a vampire.

They had eventually left the clearing where he had gone to die that day; and when they arrived back at her house they were welcomed in cries of joy and relief that they were both alive.

They had known what he would do, and had searched for him like he thought they would; but none had been more surprised than Stefan when he told him where they had gone.

His brother didn't understand why he would take her there, but it didn't really matter; they were all too blindly happy they had made it home. He apologized to Caroline, but she would barely let him get the words out when he told her how thankful he was to her for saving Elena, and convincing her to live for him.

They had stayed for only an hour before he took her home to the boarding house; and he held her hand and told her he loved her as she took her first drink from the blood bag she needed. He held her while she screamed as the fangs ripped through her mouth; he remembered with perfect clarity how scary and painful it had been for him to feel his body change.

But she was strong, and she was brave, and she didn't hide or run when she transformed in front of him. He promised her that she was beautiful when the veins snaked around her eyes; and he showed her his so she would know that he had meant it, because they were now the same.

He did his best to be patient as he tried to teach her control; he wouldn't let her drink animal blood out of his fear of Stefan's past. He only allowed her blood bags at first, and for the most part, she took to it naturally. When she did get embarrassed or self-conscious he always assured her that there was nothing to be ashamed of; that this was who she was now, and she was a perfectly normal vampire.

Her emotions were uncontrollable for a while and they fought more than anything else; she would scream and yell, throw things and hit him, but he had expected it and bore it. He loved her wrath and had told her that before; and he promised her that she could get as mad as she wanted as long as she didn't leave. So she never left and she never tried; they wouldn't make that mistake again, not after everything that had happened.

No one had expected it the first time she took a life; they had thought she had enough control by then, but they had been woefully wrong. It wasn't really her fault, and she hadn't meant for it to happen; but it had still occurred.

She was with Caroline when he got the call; they had been out shopping and had ducked into an alley for a quick snack. She was learning "snatch, eat, erase" at his urging because he didn't want her to rely on blood bags; it wasn't a dependable source of food. But Caroline hadn't been watching her close enough, and before either had known what had happened, Elena had drained him dry.

He wanted to kill Caroline for putting her through that; but he didn't and he wouldn't. There had been close calls even under his protective watch; it was only a matter of time before it eventually happened. And no matter how mad or upset he was at her friend, he could never hate her, because she was the reason that Elena was alive in the first place.

Caroline had looked terrified when he got to them, like she was waiting for him to kill her. But he told her that he wasn't mad, just to take care of the body so he could get Elena home.

He carried her back to the house and held her while she cried for days; the first was always the worst and he promised it would get easier. She screamed at him that she didn't want it to be easier, and that she would never kill again; but he wouldn't let her live in denial, it would only make things worse.

He made her listen as he told her that someday, someone else would die; it could happen out of hunger, or anger, or simply by accident, but that it was bound to happen again. He promised her that no matter what, he loved her regardless; and that death was a natural part of life, especially for vampires.

She didn't want to hear it; her stubbornness had been magnified along with many other things. But he knew, that she knew, that he was right.

They made it through her guilt, and it was hard; but they could weather any storm as long as they were together. They never knew this more than the day that they lost Stefan.

There hadn't been time to tell them the night that Elena had died, but Jeremy had apparently had a heart attack when Stefan walked through the door. He had asked Jeremy once before to talk to Katherine's ghost, but he had sworn that he couldn't find her. So when Stefan had arrived to say his goodbyes to Elena, they quickly found out why; Katherine had stayed with him, even in death.

Stefan had loved her though he had fought it with everything he had; and Katherine had always chosen him, he was the only person she had ever really loved.

His brother could no longer handle the prospect of eternity without her anymore after he had lost Elena; and Damon understood, because he had tried to die when he lost his beloved too. But they still weren't prepared when Stefan took his life so he could be with Katherine.

The grief and pain nearly destroyed him; it was only second to how he had felt when he thought he had lost Elena. Jeremy tried to give him peace by telling him that they had found each other on the other side and had been able to finally move on; but the only thing that got him through it was having her by his side.

She took complete and total care of him while he broke over the loss of his brother; and she never left him for a second even when he lashed out at her. She was his strength when he had none, and she promised she always would be; and he knew that the only thing keeping him alive was the fact that she was there.

And she was there; she was still alive and right in front of him, telling him that she loved him and that they would get through this together. He could still touch her, kiss her, make love to her, as often as he pleased; and he lost himself in his passion for her as she carried him through his grief.

They came out the other side stronger than they had ever been before; and the devotion and commitment between them was nothing less than formidable. Nothing could ever break them as long as they stood together.

He had needed to wait for a year before he finally gave her the ring; he had wanted to do it as soon as she had transitioned, but it hadn't been the time. Bonnie had made a ring and had it waiting for her when they returned, so he held his tongue as he watched her put it on. He told himself that it was all right because he wanted to wait until they were ready, and they had all the time they would ever need.

He ended up waiting for longer than he liked, but it had never felt right when she was first learning how to be a vampire, and even more so when dealing with his brother's sudden death. But he knew that it was time, and he knew that they were ready, when he finally proposed to her on the anniversary of her re-birth.

He had gotten her out of the house so that he could prepare, and she had been stunned when she arrived home from a day with her friends to find what he had done.

She was led into the parlor by a trail of red rose petals; and every few feet there had been a note describing all the different things that he loved most about her. She was already crying by the time she reached him, and she looked at the room in awe at the multitude of candles that he had lit for her.

She had gone to him slowly, shaking in excitement, nervousness and anticipating; and when she finally reached him and took his hands in hers, she didn't resist when he kissed her sweetly and told her he loved her. They were both crying by the time that he kneeled down and offered her the ring; and she smiled at him and wiped his tears when he told her how much she meant to him, and how she always would.

She had answered that she loved him too, but that he didn't have to do this; the title didn't matter as long as he was hers. But he promised that this was what he wanted, and had wanted, and that it was for both of him. He was honest when he said that he wasn't taking no for an answer unless she really meant it.

When she finally whispered her yes, he thought he would die from joy; he hadn't expected anything different, but he loved to hear her say it. She cried even harder as he slid the ring into place; it fit her perfectly, but he had known that it would. It was meant for her and always had been; just as she was meant for him.

They had Alaric marry them in front of their family and friends; and they tried not to focus on those that should have been there, but weren't. They knew that wherever they were, they were looking down and smiling.

He hadn't been able to see anything else but her once she had made her appearance; and she glowed and beamed at him as her brother walked her down the aisle. She cried when he made his vows to her, and he had never meant anything more. He couldn't help the tear that escaped as she made her own to him, and he had barely held it together when he heard her say "I do".

Their love wasn't perfect, and it never would be. It was explosive and often violent, but it was passionate, and above all, true. It was worth fighting for, and he vowed to never give up.

Because she was life, and she was breath.

And she was his, forever.

_FIN_


End file.
